Hear You Me
by Gene Kelly
Summary: The Second War is over. Harry Potter has vanished and hasn’t been heard from in two years. Heartbroken, Ginny must move on. Life seems normal until a week before her wedding, Harry appears on her doorstep. How's that for ironic? [FORM. BURY THE HATCHET]
1. Intro I

-A/N: Yep, I've nowdecided that I'm going to start re-posting _'Bury The Hatchet'_ as well. (Same story, new title, which fits better.It's a Jimmy Eat World song).This was written way before HPB came out, so some facts and events might clash with what has happened in the book. I will eventually finish this story, so I'm going to just continue with where I left off and not even attempt to fix every little detail that doesn't fit HPB. I think if I did that, it'd ruin the story. Anyway, here it is. And thanks for at least reading!

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I'd always heard stories about you, you know. 

They were more like mythological legends, actually. You were the hero, although you could barely walk or talk and your mission, though seemingly impossible, was to save mankind and the wizarding world from the clutches of an evil sorcerer.

They were bedtime stories that always gave me a sense of comfort, like as the sky is blue. Never changing, always victorious in the end and laced with a pinch of optimism.

And as my Mum placed a delicate kiss on my forehead, I would simply smile to myself as the cheer of her words echoed in my mind and prayed to Merlin that **I** would find a handsome hero to come and sweep me off my feet.

The ideas of valor, honor and elegant Princesses seemed lovely to me. It would separate me from my brothers and I wouldn't be "just another Weasley."

**I would be someone's something, someone's everything. **

I so badly wanted to love someone. That's all every little girl wants. We get so caught up in the ideas of romance and roses that we forget about reality. I had managed to forget about reality for a long time, too.

That is, until you showed up.

There you were glasses, scar and all, sitting at our breakfast table with my brother and eating toast as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I was petrified, actually. All the tales and wonders I'd indulged in as a child had come to life. The Hero I'd always heard about was in the flesh and all I could do was gape like a fish out of water.

Another year followed and I still doted after you like a lovesick puppy. Actually, I'm not quite sure it was love. Yes, I loved the way your hair always stuck out in multiple directions and I loved the way you seemed so loyal to my brother and Hermione but to this day, I'm not positive I was in **love** with _you._

I think I was in love with the idea of **being** in love, you see.

So, little by little, my doting diminished to high infatuation, then disintegrated to extreme fondness, until your fifth year rolled around and I'd believed I was free.

I was cured.

The stories remained just stories and the fable of a Prince sweeping me off into the blazing sunset seemed as juvenile as my brother's practical jokes.

Hermione always used to bug me about it, you know. Mum too. But not exactly in an obvious and annoying way but in that subtle, "I know something you don't," approach. I would only laugh and repeat my newfound self-discovery of freedom and independence.

I didn't need you, I'd proclaim. I'd grown up and gotten over it, like a bad cold.

But colds and sickness always can come back with a vengeance and pretty soon, you turned everything upside down. Everything I'd worked so hard on upholding crumbled like sandcastles facing the crushing blow of high tide.

It was the summer time and in the beginning of your sixth year. You stayed at our house for the rest of the summer and things weren't so awkward between us anymore. You truly believed I was over you as much as I boasted to other people, about it.

And we talked and played Quidditch and I was beginning to think that maybe we could become actual friends, instead of the over exaggerated and sickly sweet relationship I'd giggled and fantasized about years before.

And that's when I began to notice things.

Like the way your nose crinkles the tiniest bit whenever you laugh. Or the way your eyes flicker with drear when you're upset or change to a darker, velvet hue with latent frustration when you're angry.

All the little things added up and suddenly, without my approval, I'd fallen for you. Except this time I wasn't waiting to be saved by some kind of hero. I was waiting for some kind of wonderful.

It was the kind of feeling you get before a huge storm approaches; the anxiety, the fear and the slight excitement of it all. I was standing on the edge of a catastrophe I couldn't escape.

My heart and mind were tugging and pulling and pushing in opposite directions. You should know that I tried so hard to fight it. I'd make up all these outrageous excuses and reassurances but when it came down to it, I couldn't get that image of a boy and his jade eyes and his beautiful smile that always lingered with beautiful sadness.

It all came down to you. 

So now it's the last day of term and the last day you'll be a boy. Tomorrow will be another day and another summer for me, while tomorrow will mark your first steps into adulthood.

But tonight I should take the chance and tell you, though I'd rather wait until tomorrow and pretend I forget all about it, so I could pretend nothing ever happened.

We're sitting in the middle of the Quidditch pitch and though it's rather odd, it's a rather fitting tribute. Our butter beers lay by our sides. Mine's unopened and yours is ¾ full.

There's only a small portion of the moon in view but it's quite all right, since there are thousands and thousands of stars that glimmer and shimmer. They're rendering off a dazzling glow, giving the jet-black sky the illusion that it is a blanket and the stars are polished diamonds sewn into the delicate fabric.

Everyone's probably inside, speculating about where we wandered off to but I could care less. Just about every seventh year dorm or common room is having a party but I enjoy our silence.

You've grown so much over the past years; it's hard to believe I'm looking at the same person. From the few photos I've seen, you look a lot like James but Mum says you remind her a lot of Lily.

But to me you've transformed into simply Harry, not the Boy Who Lived or "The Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who." You're so much more than that. You're the one who always has the messy hair and always plays games of 'keep away' with me just because you're taller than I am. You're the one who doesn't see me as "just another Weasley."

You're the one who occasionally knocks shoulders with me when we're walking down the streets of Hogsmeade as we joke about plans to get my brother and Hermione together.

I'm only sixteen but I think I'm in **love.**

And I only came out here with you to confess all of this but we haven't talked much since we sat down. Silence just fell over us like a cloak. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I'm too scared to let them go.

"You think Ron and Hermione are looking for us?" You suddenly ask.

I shrug.

"Maybe. Most likely, not. Actually, I'm hoping Ron will grow a backbone and finally tell Hermione how he feels. It's getting quite old, this game of pretend, if I say so myself," I reply with amusement.

You chuckle and take a swig of your butter beer.

"I bet you anything he started to go for it, chickened out and so he started an argument," you guess with a wry smile.

I had to laugh at that. It was so true.

"You don't have to bet. I totally agree."

We're silent for a moment.

How am I supposed to confess what I've been thinking, when all I can think about is that smile of yours or what would happen if I reached for your hand?

"I can't believe it's finally over," you muse.

I nod.

"One more year for me and it's all over. It's happening so fast, isn't it? One minute I'm getting the sorting hat put on my head, the next I'm biding you farewell."

You turn to me with a half-smile.

"It's not **really** goodbye, you know. I'll see you loads of times during the summer and stuff. We're friends, right?" You ask.

**Friends.** In a way, the word makes me smile from head to toe. In the beginning, it was all some childish fantasy. You were Harry Bloody Potter for Pete's sake! I'd dreamed about all the ways I'd meet you but I never really thought it would happen.

It's like when you learn about all these disaster, survival tips. You never **really** anticipate the disaster.

And now…to hear you use that word, it's weird. Like wandering into an alternate universe type of weird. But a good weird.

But the word also breaks my heart. I don't want to be **just** your friend. I want you to see me in another light, another way. I want to step out of the shadows of just a friend and into…something more, into the great beyond of just friendship.

I'm just so confused, that all I can do is deliver you with an artificial smile and quickly confirm, "Yes. Of course, Harry."

You smile and face forward once more.

"I have so many memories, I'm afraid I'll forget them all once I leave here," you confess with a hint of sarcasm.

I shake my head.

"Don't worry, you won't forget anything. Trust me. Here…this school…Hogwarts…it'll always be apart of you, wherever you end up."

Your lips curl into a smile at my words, reminiscing on your past experiences.

"I guess you're right."

Silence once more.

You suddenly turn to me and the expression in your eyes makes me hesitate.

"Ginny?" You question.

I face you, uncertain.

"Yes?"

"I…"

Your voice trails off as your brilliant eyes suddenly widen and seem to swallow mine whole and before I know what's happening, we're both moving closer and my eyes are _closing _and I'm _nervous_ but desperately try to hide it and then your lips **crash onto mine** and I can't help but wonder if it's all a blissful dream.

And when you pull back my eyes are still frantically fluttering along with my heart and for me, out in the Qudditch pitch, this is the closest to **heaven** I'll ever get.

Though I want the moment to last longer, my eyes snap open and search into yours, hoping for only the best.

But I can tell you're having second thoughts, with me being your best friend's little sister and all. For once, I just wish that you could learn how to be completely selfish.

I pray it didn't have to end this way and I that don't have to do what I'm about to do. It's best to sew up this wound before it becomes a vicious scar.

Before you can fumble with an excuse, I open my mouth and speak.

"It's all right, Harry. We're just **friends**, right? We can pretend…it never happened. Just one of those forgive and forget things," I sigh.

You continue to stare at me as though I'm a stranger then sigh and run a hand through your chaotic hair.

"Right. Friends."

You turn your head forward and I follow pursuit, radiating strength andserenity on the outside, though I'm falling to pieces on the inside.

I hastily snatch my bottle of butter beer and take a huge gulp, my saline mixing with the delicious beverage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see your hand linger next to mine, move an inch closer than immediately pull back.

**And I can't help but think with irony that instead of a knight in shining armor, this fairy tale Princess got a best friend. **


	2. Intro II

-A/N: Thanks for the reviews and the positive feedback! These first two chapters are just introductions basically, to the story and just give it background. The first part was in Ginny's POV and this next part is in Harry's POV. Hope you like it!

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Have you viewed a person for the same way for a copious amount of years when suddenly, you wake up one day and everything has changed? I sometimes wish I had the foresight to prepare myself for these kinds of situations but unfortunately, it came when I was least expecting it.

Maybe I should have been more punctilious to whatever signs or messages the universe was throwing at me. Maybe it gradually progressed, until I was hit head on. Or maybe I had known it all along but refused to admit the truth. Whatever it was, on that night, I found myself falling for Ginny Weasley.

It was the last night of term and the last time I'd ever set foot in Hogwarts as a student. Just about every common room or dormitory was throwing a raging party but for some reason, I found myself walking outside with you.

I wasn't in the mood to party just then. Joining in on the celebrations would mean that it was finally over. Tomorrow would be my first day as, well, an _adult_. I figured if I put off celebrating for a while later, it wouldn't be so real.

I was going to ask Ron and Hermione to join me but I didn't want to interrupt. It looked like they were having yet another heated argument. Except this time, I was almost certain Ron would get up the nerve to kiss Hermione.

I really didn't want to disturb a moment like that. Besides, if I did, I just might have lost five sickles to Seamus. Anyway, you were standing by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room and it just seemed…appropriate for the time being.

It was rather nice, I must admit, having a moment alone. I'd gotten to know you better over the summer of sixth year and things just evolved from there. No longer were you the blushing, shy and giggling admirer from afar but someone I could relate to, someone I could joke around with.

You were a friend. More than just a friend, mind you. I felt like I didn't have to explain myself too much around you. I could say two words and you'd smile and nod, completely understanding.

Maybe it was because growing up in a house full of boys, you could relate better than say, Hermione. Granted, Hermione's one of my best friends but nevertheless, no matter what Ron would like to think, she's a girl.

There are just certain barriers between girls and guys that sometimes put a damper on friendships between them. I'm not saying it's the cause of something horrible, just that it sometimes creates a blockade on the level of communication.

For example, Quidditch. As most everyone knows, Hermione's never been on a broomstick for more than five minutes in her entire life. She once even told Ron and myself that she hates flying. Afraid of heights or what not.

I very well couldn't have an hour long discussion with Hermione about which teams would make it to the World Cup, now could I? You on the other hand, were a different story.

We could talk about anything and everything to absolutely nothing. It was strange but I'd never guessed you and I could…click so well.

I guess you could say you were just one of the "guys." You became as much of a friend to me as Hermione but in a different way. I can't explain it…but the best possible terms are: the sister I never had.

But see, that's not even the right way to explain it. That's more of a general, vague way. When you think of someone as your sister, of course you never notice her in…**that** way.

Granted, I'd certainly noticed how well you…er, _grew up_ but I didn't want to notice for very long. I was too afraid that Ron would catch me and suspect something. And Ron is definitely not a person I'd like to make angry.

Besides…it felt weird noticing you in that way. Whenever I noticed how beautiful your smile was or how soft your hair looked, I'd shake my head and quickly glance away. I kind of freaked myself out, I suppose.

So every time the feeling came around, I'd dispose and ignore of it as fast as it had hit me. I'd been doing a pretty good job of handling it, until that night.

Something just came over me…and one thought led to another. First I noticed your eyes…how despite the fact it was relatively dark out, they sparkled in the moonlight. And then I noticed your hair…and how long it had gotten since that summer.

And then I noticed your lips…and despite the fact they were turned into an apathetic, slight frown, that they were rather lovely. I don't know if it was me or you that made the first move but before I can stop myself, my lips were pressed against yours and I felt my heart flutter with excitement and my head was swimming in stars.

Because that night, just sitting in the pitch, you weren't just Ginny Weasley. You were something more…something I had failed to notice until now…**some kind of wonderful. **

I could have kicked myself for pulling back as soon as I did. But I was nervous that you were surprised…feeling a bit of regret or something. I mean, it was kind of unexpected.

And when I got a glimpse of your face, it kind of broke my heart. Your eyes were wide and though full of bliss, clouded by alarm. You looked like you'd just been punched in the nose or something…I mean, I'm really not **that** bad of a kisser right?

But all in all, you looked like you had just made the biggest mistake of your life. And I knew I had to say something, anything, as soon as possible but you beat me to the punch.

With a little sigh, you replied, "It's all right, Harry. We're just **friends**, right? We can pretend…it never happened. Just one of those forgive and forget things."

And I could only nod and agree but deep down inside, you were so much more than that to me. But I couldn't find the words to say it and I let the opportune moment slip by. Besides, I don't think you were ready to deal with Ron's reaction.

I knew I certainly wasn't…but that didn't mean I wanted to walk away from what just happened…or what _could_ have happened.

So we stayed outside a while longer, until we headed back inside. Your hand was pretty close to mine but I didn't grab for it. I wanted to but after that awkward kiss thing, I wasn't too sure you'd be up for it.

I mean…things happened pretty quick, didn't they? One minute I'm thinking about how lovely your eyes are in the moonlight and the next minute, your lips are pressed up against mine and I can't think anything at all except for how wonderful it is.

And now I think I've ruined it…but how could I ruin something that didn't even start? Your eyes wouldn't look in my direction as we walked back up the hill and through the front doors. I was a little confused if we were still friends or…something else…but my question felt idiotic.

You so badly tried to hide your embarrassment but the strawberry hue splattered on your cheeks gave it away. What you were embarrassed for…I don't have a clue.

We parted in common room. You headed up the staircase, up to the girl's dorms. The party was still going on and I think I even spotted Dean Thomas with a bottle of Fire Whiskey but you muttered something about "awfully tired" and still having to pack.

So with one last look, you swiftly went up the stairs and I joined the party with my fellow Gryffindors, though I was still in a daze about the events that had just taken place. The party stopped well around two in the morning but I headed to bed around one-thirty. I had to pack up the last bit of my clothes and miscellaneous luggage.

But I couldn't sleep and exhaustion hadn't yet set in.

So now I'm lying in bed, listening reluctantly to Ron's awful snoring and Seamus mumbling something about giant bunnies, wondering if I was the one who made a mistake by keeping quiet.

I wonder if you'll tell Ron about it and then I realize you most likely won't, because we both know Ron will throw a fit. And then I wonder if you're sitting up in bed too, wondering about me like I'm wondering about you.

I'm thinking about what will happen tomorrow when I hear the floor board squeak and a familiar voice curse, "Damn!"

I'm alarmed though not afraid and don't bother to reach for my wand.

"Lumos!" the voice quietly hisses.

I fumbled in the darkness for my glasses and am quickly greeted with your face, bathed in the glow of your wand light. You're in your pajamas, with the famous hand-sewn, Weasley sweater. Yours, of course, has a "G" on the front for Ginny.

Now, I've seen many strange and unusual things in my life but this has got to be the most unusual.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

Your eyes scour the room, making sure everyone is asleep and then focus back on my face.

"I had to see you. Tonight was well…weird," you sheepishly confess.

I smile, though it's not a very big one. You came all the way up here to tell me tonight was weird? How weird is that?

"So…you came all the way up here to tell me tonight was weird? Thanks, Gin," I tease with a smirk.

You laugh and Ron snores even louder.

You mutter something and your wand light vanishes into darkness.

"Move over," you instruct, lifting up the covers.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Is this a dream?

"What?" 

I can just picture you rolling your eyes, as I feel your body slide up against mine.

"Oh, please Harry. If you're worried about getting into trouble, don't worry about it. I know Ron snores but honestly, he can sleep through anything," you quickly assure.

I laugh and lean against the headboard, as you do the same.

_What now?_

We're silent for a moment and I can feel anxiety slip on my shoulders like a cloak. Since when have I gotten nervous around you? This is all too odd. But then again…this night has been rather odd.

"About that kiss…"

I turn to you, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the room.

"Yeah?" I curiously demand.

You sigh.

"I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. And I won't tell Ron, trust me. You're not going to tell him, right?" You question.

I shake my head immediately.

"Are you nutters? Why would I tell Ron? Besides…I-well, I don't know about you but…I liked it."

Your eyes widen as large as saucers and I want to slap myself. Wow, tonight really isn't my night.

"Ginny? Something wrong?"

You shake your head.

"No…it's just that…I wasn't expecting you to say that," you slowly admit.

I laugh.

"What **were** you expecting me to say then?"

You crack a genuine smile, the kind that makes me fall head over heels for you all over again.

"I don't know. Just anything but that."

"Yeah well, I think I'm learning to expect the unexpected," I tease with hidden seriousness.

Honestly, when you're me, the unexpected is about as normal as the sun rising.

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow. It feels like just yesterday, I was totally beating you at Wizard's Chess," you joke.

I throw you a wry smile.

"That **was** just yesterday."

You grin and snuggle up to me. Or maybe it wasn't snuggling and I'm exaggerating. Whatever it was, I certainly wasn't going to protest.

"So it was."

Surprisingly, I let out a yawn.

"Are you tired?" I question.

You shrug.

"Somewhat."

"All right."

I lay down and to my pleasant surprise, you follow pursuit. The silence is the thing that kills me, you know. Those awkward silences where we're both anticipating what's about to happen next. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a butcher knife.

I decide to be bold and wrap my arm around your waist. I've done it before…just not in **this** sort of way. Before it was all good fun…innocent teasing and flirting. Now we both know it's crossed the borders of innocent flirting and into that great gray area of beyond, when a guy and girl are having a hard time trying to figure out if they want to be just friends or something more.

In response, you rest your head on my chest and I can't help but smile. Your hair is everywhere…spilling across the sheet and my shirt.

"Harry?" You murmur.

"Yes?"

You pause for a second.

"If, perhaps, if we both knew Ron wouldn't have a cow and it was all right and I wasn't your best friend's little sister and you weren't going away for Auror training…do you think we'd well, be together?"

The question certainly catches me off guard but I can't deny the truth.

"I suppose so," I muse.

You shift a little and yawn.

"I suppose…maybe…this summer, I could talk to Ron. Maybe…something could happen."

It's not that confident but an optimistic plan, no doubt. You flash me a quick smile and I do something I've never done before…kiss your forehead.

"Maybe," I simply respond.

I can't help but marvel how well you fit in my arms, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And a few minutes later, the steady rise and fall of your chest shows that you've fallen asleep. I take a few minutes to study your expression and smile at the serenity of it, though I'm pretty sure your thoughts are spinning and whirling non-stop.

About three or five minutes later, (I can't exactly remember), I fall asleep as well, with you curled up by my side. And I can't help but wonder if this is love…**having the best conversation with someone without saying anything at all.**

The sun rises like clockwork and when I wake up to greet the dawn…I feel coldness on my side and a mass of wrinkled sheets.

When I put on my glasses and the blur of early morning vision goes away...I wake up to discover that you're gone…..


	3. there's no one in town, i know

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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-A/N: Hey everyone! I just finished HBP a few days ago and **OMG**, I was totally crying during the last few chapters of the book. And what happened with Ginny and Harry, God, all I could say was FINALLY. Haha. The whole Lavender and Ron situation was pretty funny, though. Overall, I really liked HBP, despite what other people think.

Oh and another thing, I really like Sassy!Ginny. Some people don't like the way JK Rowling suddenly gave Ginny a "personality," but I think it was perfect. I mean, the books are through Harry's perspective, right? So obviously, he didn't really notice her before, so she didn't get a chance to really know Harry. Now that he likes her, of course it's going to seem like she suddenly developed a personality overnight, because Harry is really _seeing_ Ginny for the first time, if you know what I mean. Plus, she's older now, so of course she'll have grown as a person. Lol, I guess that's enough of my ranting. But if anyone wants to chat/discuss HBP with me, then feel free to IM me. My sn is iLOVEhobbits0623.

And by the way, I have renewed my hatred for Snape. Oily git. Hehe. Happy reading and please review!

**NOTE: This story was written long before HBP and will probably have some things that differ from the book. I'm not going to go back and fix everything, because I was nearly done with the story anyway, before it got deleted.**

_Peace,_

_Gene Kelly _

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_This is about the third letter I've written you today. I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm completely lost without you. I found an old sweater of yours that you had lent me, in the far back of my closet. Automatically, the scent triggers a fresh set of tears._

_It's been a month since the Second War has ended and there's no word from you. Ron keeps persuading me to keep up hope and that you're fine, just probably busy somewhere. Hermione always advises me to do something to take my mind off of you but it's an attempt done in vain. _

_I can see it in their eyes. They're forcing themselves to move on. But I don't **want** to move on. I want to pick up where we left off. I want to look at my brother's Qudditch posters without instantly remembering that night out on the pitch. _

_I'm trying to be strong but how can someone be strong when their entire world is falling apart and all they can do is sit and helplessly watch? _

_We had the beginning of something good, you know? That summer was probably the best I've ever had in my life. For once, my life made sense…we made sense. And then you had to go and before I knew it, the wizarding world was at war. _

_It was probably the most horrific moment I've ever experienced, opening the Daily Prophet only to drink in the bold headline of: **WAR HAS BEGUN!**_

_I literally went weak in the knees. _

_Do you know how badly my heart ached, knowing that you were involved? Do you know how much I needed you then, how much I needed you to assure everything was all right and how much I needed to see that lazy grin and your messy hair? _

_If only I had begged you to stay. Maybe you would be here with me, instead of lost out there, somewhere. There hasn't been word of you since the final battle. Voldemort was defeated, of course. But he wasn't vanquished without a determined struggle. _

_They all say that it came down to you and him, head to head. They all say that you had this fierce look about you, with fire in your eyes and acid in your voice. They all say that the final fight lasted well over two hours and that you endured a few blows, too. _

_But they all don't know where you vanished. They all say that when Voldemort was conquered, a powerful explosion ricocheted like a terrible tidal wave throughout Manchester, like the earth was opening up and swallowing evil itself whole. _

_Many people were thrown fifteen or twenty feet from their original spot. They heard your voice cry out in surprise but didn't view where you'd fallen, due to the thick clouds of jet-black smoke and ash. And when the debris were cleared, you had disappeared into thin air._

_No one has seen you since. _

_The search has been going for about a month now but I think people are ready to give up. The only clue left behind was your glasses, which were broken beyond repair. _

_Do you know what you're doing to me, how much your absence is killing me? I thought for once that I could have the perfect happy ending. You'd come home a war hero and we'd get married and have kids. Instead all I'm left with is a bundle of memories and tattered photographs. _

_I miss you, Harry. Don't you realize that I'd do anything to get you back? Do you realize how overjoyed I'd be if for once, I'd get a reply? _

_Some people speculate you're dead. But I won't believe them. If you had perished, I would have known. I would have felt it. But I think that you're still out there, searching for a way to get home. _

_You've just lost your way, is all. _

_Come back to me. Please, just come home. _

_All my love,_

_Ginny_

* * *

Ginny Weasley sighed as she placed the wrinkled letter back in its hiding spot. She had been rummaging around her closet, looking for the box of wedding invitations she'd just bought, when it had gracefully floated to the floor.

The front of the envelope was simply addressed, _"Harry."_ Curiosity getting the best of her, she had torn open the paper, only to be assailed with a past she had hoped to bury long ago. After reading only the first two lines, she had felt her heart collapse to her bedroom floor. She'd done such a good job of concealing the wound that over time, she'd forgotten about it. Or maybe it was rather not an action of forgetting but of ignoring.

Whichever it was, the technique had been working for quite some time. It had even allowed her to place all the letters and photographs and various mementos, in a special box in a discreet hiding place. She always kept out one photograph, though.

It was a candid one that she'd taken herself. They had been outside, messing about on their broomsticks and after an hour or so, decided to have a bit of a rest. He was grinning at the camera and his hair was flying all over the place; even messier than usual.

His broomstick was carelessly slung over his shoulder and his shirt was demolished with dirt and sweat. His eyes were twinkling with jest and slyness, probably because right after he'd involuntarily gotten his picture taken, he'd showered her with the watering hose.

The picture brought up memories of better days, days when war wasn't obligatory and an obstacle in the distance. It sat in a maroon frame upon her nightstand and each night, before she turned off the light, she would study it for a few moments, issue it a small, pleasant yet nostalgic smile and then roll on her right side to fall asleep.

She certainly would never forget him but after a year and a half of mourning, wondering and praying, she decided to move on. In the back of her mind, she sometimes found herself having faith in the theory that one day he would appear on the doorstep of the Burrow, greeting her with arms wide open.

But this was instantly dismissed as soon as she conjured the idea. It was silly to keep holding on, when everyone had highly advised her to move on.

There hadn't been much information as to his whereabouts and practically no one had seen him since that fateful battle. There had been a few reports of an occasional sighting, but these had only been false alarms. It got frustrating and painful to station herself on a pedestal of such high hopes, only to be violently knocked off.

So, one day, after another sequence of dreams that involved his endearing smile, Ginny Weasley decided to move on once and for all. She figured it wouldn't do her much good to spend the rest of her life wishing for something that obviously wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't easy, by any means. Some afternoons, her mother would come home from shopping to find her crying in her room. And some mornings, Ginny just didn't have the motivation to get out of bed. But little by little, as slow as a snail, she was able to put away all the old relics without a second glance or hesitation.

Harry would have wanted her to move on and be happy, right?

She had to repeat this thought continuously to herself as she sealed the box shut and stuffed it on the highest shelf of her closet.

Pretty soon, living without Harry seemed relatively normal. She adjusted to this strange and new chapter of her life. And surprisingly, she adjusted well enough to get engaged.

"Ginny! Have you found those invitations yet? We have to send them out today, you know!" Mrs. Weasley's voice stridently called.

Ginny sighed and gathered the handful of cards, then nudged the closet door shut with her foot. Tomorrow would mark the last week before her wedding. Truth be told, Ginny was terrified. It wasn't that she was afraid her marriage wouldn't last, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to say, "I do" at the alter.

She loved Dean that was for certain, but deep down she knew she could never love him like she had loved Harry. There was something about young and first love that always withstood the test of time. Something about its genuine passion and innocence could not extort an ounce of its romance.

Dean Thomas had waited nearly a year to propose. He wanted to make sure she was ready and secure. He knew how hard it was for Ginny to put the past behind her and wanted to make sure he wasn't rushing her into anything she would later regret.

She had dated Dean towards the end of her fourth year _(his fifth)_, but things hadn't worked out. They had remained good friends though and it was he that had been her shoulder to cry on, during the strenuous time of mourning.

Nearly her entire family had gone to war, with the exception of Percy, herself and her mother. Ron and Hermione had signed up the moment they'd received news about the official start of it. Much to Fred and George's wives, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, they too had gone off to face the perils of good vs. evil, alongside their best friend, Lee Jordan. Percy continued to work at the Ministry of Magic and her mother had signed up for a volunteer job at St. Mungo's, helping in any way she could.

It was astonishing at how many patients transferred by the hour. So many people came flooding in, that St. Mungo's requested extra and experienced witches/wizards to help. Ginny had actually wanted to go to war with the rest of her Hogwarts classmates, but her parents and Harry had refused.

When Ginny had confronted them about it, her Mother looked like she wanted to burst into tears and her Father's face turned a sickeningly ash and white color.

"What if something were to happen to you? You're our only daughter!"

On their last day together, Ginny had expressed her feelings of self-recruitment to Harry but he had delivered just about the same response as her parents. She could still remember his reaction down to the last motion.

He'd gripped her by the shoulders, gazed sternly into her eyes and demanded, _"Ginny, whatever you do, don't go to war. It'll keep me a lot less worried at night, knowing you're safe at the Burrow."_

She had nearly burst out into tears, right then and there. The anxiety, grief and despair of it all were weighing down upon her. She didn't want to face the awful "what ifs" and possibilities of the worst.

_"But I want to go with you. I can fight, too. Nearly everyone in my family has signed up, including my Dad. I can't sit at home and do nothing!" she had vehemently protested._

He had sighed and wrapped her in his arms, burying his nose in her mass of fiery hair.

"_Please, Ginny. Promise me. Don't sign up. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Besides, I won't have anything to look forward to when this war is over," he added with a weak smile. _

And just like that, he walked out the door and out of her life, taking her heart with him.

"**GINNY!** I don't have all day!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and headed down the stairs, her shoes thrusting against the weathered wood, just to signify her arrival for her mother's fastidious manner.

"Hold your horses, Mum. I've got them right here!"

Ginny met her Mother in the kitchen and tossed the invitations on the table. Ginny had her own apartment, just outside of London but had decided to plan out the wedding arrangements at home, so she would have the help of her parents.

Mrs. Weasley frowned at her daughter's sardonic tone but quickly gathered them up and made a hasty count. The War definitely had turned the Weasley household upside down, not to mention rattled Mrs. Weasley down to the very last nerve. Ginny had never seen her Mother worry so much. She often stressed herself out, that she'd get terrible head colds.

"Have you addressed them to everyone on the list?"

Ginny pressed her lips together and studied a stray Wizard's Chess piece that had been located on the chair next to her. Planning a wedding certainly wasn't the easy sprint she'd thought it to be. It was more like a three thousand-mile marathon. There was just so much to do in so little time!

"I think so. Why, did I miss anyone?" Ginny questioned, settling onto a nearby stool.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and tied a few invitations to Errol, the family owl.

Ginny had invited about forty-five people, including her closest friends and family. Dean had invited about thirty people, so the couple was just under ninety guests. Though Dean had offered to pay just about the entire wedding, it wasn't a cheap event for the Weasley's. The two planned to have the actual ceremony outside, on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The reception would be at the Weasley house.

"No, I'm pretty sure you have everyone accounted for. You made sure you invited Grandmother Patricia? You know how much of a fuss she'll make if she doesn't get one," Mrs. Weasley questioned.

Ginny watched as Errol gave a prompt hoot, then flew out the window.

"Yes, I invited her."

"Good. Oh, your father said he'd stop by Madame Ravine's after work, to pick up the dress. I do hope it fits all right, now. I don't think I'll have enough patience to handle the seventh fitting," Mrs. Weasley huffed.

Arthur Weasley still worked at Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. But rumor on the street was that due to his outstanding leadership at the ministry throughout the years and especially during the war, he was pretty soon going to be appointed Minister.

Ginny cupped her head in her hands and gazed at her Mother.

"Mum, were you unsure before you married Dad? I mean, were you absolutely positive that it was the right thing?"

Mrs. Weasley rose an eyebrow, a little suspicious at her daughter's words. She knew how much of a struggle it was for Ginny to get over Harry and had a feeling that the torch she'd carried for him hadn't fully died.

"Why? Are you having second thoughts about marrying Dean? Because dear, if it's too soon then I'm sure he'll wait a few more months," Mrs. Weasley optimistically guessed.

Ginny shook her head, though it was halfway true.

"No, it's not that, Mum. I really do love Dean, I do. It's just that…I'm not sure I'll ever love him like I love-**loved** Harry," she sheepishly confessed.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and snatched a stool to pull up next to her daughter. She took a moment to pause and think of the best possible wording of her response.

"I won't lie, you and Harry had something special. I think that's been the happiest I've ever seen you. But as much as you loved him, it's time to move on. I don't want to say the unthinkable but no one's heard from Harry for about two years. You have to let go some time or another. I think Harry would only want to see you happy."

Ginny nodded.

"I know. And I mean, sometimes I still catch myself thinking about him. I sometimes look at the door and I think any moment he'll just throw it open and be there, untouched and just as I remembered him. I love Dean, though. But I just don't want to do something I'll regret. I don't want to go into this marriage loving him halfway. It has to be all or nothing. I mean, I think I'm ready but how do I know?"

Mrs. Weasley grabbed her daughter's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"What does your heart say?"

Ginny thought for a moment, almost expecting a loud and vivid reassurance from her heart. But she was greeted with silence. How did she know if she was ready?

She had thought she was over Harry, but this morning's discovery of the letter obviously proved otherwise. She really did love Dean and appreciate everything he did for her…but she just didn't know if she loved him as much as he loved her.

But then again, Harry wasn't coming back any time soon. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life wondering and praying for a dream that would never come true? And her Mother was right. Harry only wanted to see her happy. Spending the rest of her life alone and bitter wouldn't solve anything…or bring him back for that matter.

Ginny threw her Mom a smile.

"It says I'm ready."

Mrs. Weasley beamed and let go of her hand.

"See? Trust yourself, Ginny and everything will work out all right in the end."

The daughter and mother shared a smile. Just then, there was a loud crash as Errol smashed into the window. Mrs. Weasley let out a cry of surprise then rushed over to the window to retrieve the bird.

"Oh Merlin! Ginny, go by Floo to Ron's and ask him to borrow his owl. It looks like Errol needs a bit of rest."

Ginny couldn't help but chuckle as she scurried to the fireplace. She was fully aware of what might lay in store for her, if venturing to Ron's flat. She had dropped by, uninvited and announced just a week before and well, let's just say she caught him at a rather bad time, in a rather surprising position with a rather embarrassed Hermione.

"I'm right on it, Mum."

Ginny sprinkled a bit of Floo powder around and clearly stated: "45A, MULBERRY STREET, LONDON."

As she felt her body being tugged by the force of the magic, she couldn't help but think that maybe the wedding was actually going to turn out to be a good idea, instead of a disaster.

* * *

The twenty-something, handsome wizard looked at the countryside of England, breathing in deeply, a grin crossing his features. He'd finally made it back to his homeland. He fiddled in his pant's pocket and grabbed his newly repaired wand.

His clothes were a bit oversized and dusty, but he couldn't be anymore relieved.

During the final battle, it had gotten snapped in half. Fortunately, despite the fact that he was a stranger in their town, the elderly French couple had fixed his wand without charge. They had asked him about the scar, of course, but due to his amnesia he wasn't able to remember much.

But a year had passed and he'd finally gotten his entire memory back. That is, he'd finally been able to place her face with a name. Despite the fact he'd contracted amnesia, her face was the only thing he could recall. It was a beautiful face indeed but it frustrated him beyond belief that he couldn't remember her name.

He'd have quick flashes of memories; a kiss here, a walk along a Qudditich pitch there but they were never long enough to supply him sufficient information.

All he knew about the angel was that her face was the thing that kept him alive. He was as much in love with her as the day he met her, **absolutely crazy** about her. As he stuck out his right hand, he knew it would be seconds before the Knight Bus appeared.

And then he would be able to go back home. The little bit of money the French couple had given him was just enough for the long bus fare. He took a mental note to owl them a letter of gratitude once he got home.

The familiar purple bus screeched to a halt and Harry stuck his wand back in his pocket.

With a grin, he boarded the bus, ignoring the attendant's expression of disbelief. He couldn't figure out why the attendant was gazing at him in such awe. Though Harry was immune to people's gawking, this was a different kind. This awe wasn't due to the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. It looked like he'd seen a ghost or something.

Harry settled into onto an empty bed and gazed at the window, as the scenery blended together in a swirl of vibrant colors.

"Ginny, I'm finally coming home."


	4. you gave us some place to go

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

-A/N: Thanks for all the support and encouragement. I love writing as much as I love reading your feedback and positive words. I'm so glad many of you think that I've done a pretty good job pinpointing Ginny's character. I don't think of Ginny as weak or a "damsel in distress" type, but I figured she'd be pretty shaken up if something like this happened to her. Therefore, I wanted her to still be attached to Harry, feel a little out of control, but still have that same independent, fiery spirit. Here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

Peace,

_Gene._

* * *

In a matter of seconds, Ginny found herself located in Ron's extremely messy, spare bedroom. Or rather, formerly messy spare bedroom. Ever since Hermione had moved in, things found a way of appearing cleaner than they ever had before. Ginny took a moment to listen for the sound of voices and instantly heard a masculine and feminine voice float from the kitchen.

Ginny brushed the soot that clung to her jeans and dark green T-shirt, then headed out the door and down the hall. Ron used to share the flat with Harry after they'd graduated Hogwarts and job hunting. Eventually, Harry saved up enough money to buy a quaint apartment of his own, just a few blocks down the road.

Ron's flat was on the small side, though this could be because the clutter and mess gave it that illusion. It consisted of a master bedroom, TV/Living room, kitchen, bathroom and dining room. The entire apartment was decorated with peeling, ivory colored wallpaper and wood floors. Hermione always pestered Ron about calling in professional painters to redo everything, but he always seemed to conveniently "forget."

Ron rarely used the dining room, seeing as how his lack of culinary skills prevented him from having many guests over for a meal. Thus, he had converted it into a miniature office. After the Second War, Ron had been appointed the job of a sports journalist at the wizard world's best magical games and sports magazine, _Qudditch Illustrated_.

During the "on" season, he traveled a lot, watching and analyzing qudditch game after quidditch game. It was absolute heaven for her brother. The summer was usually the training season for many teams, so Ron had these months off. Sometimes he'd randomly get called in to do a quick story or update, but it didn't take more than a day or two to complete.

Ron kept their original flat and a few months later, along with a nervous proposal, asked Hermione to move in with her. She happily agreed to both and the couple were married a year later. It was a little strange or rather shocking, in Ginny's opinion, that Hermione would readily agree to get married at such a young age.

Both Ron and Hermione were only twenty-two and both families feared that marriage at such a young age would only result in catastrophe. But the couple seemed as much in love as the day they started dating, in the summer before seventh year.

Now just a year later, Ron and Hermione still argued over the same pointless things they did when at Hogwarts, still bantered and bickered but had finally admitted what they felt for each other was more than platonic. Therefore, Ginny was actually relieved that it was all out in the open.

She'd _finally_ have to stop listening to Fred and George's complaints, each time they lost their money on a bet involving those two.

"Ron? Mione? It's me!" Ginny called in greeting, as she reached the end of the hall.

Ginny was faced with her extremely tall and lanky brother, glaring at a rather annoyed and still-bushy haired Hermione. The youngest Weasley son was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain, white shirt. His wife was sporting a denim skirt and a dark blue Oxford shirt.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had changed drastically in the looks department since graduating; though Ginny wondered if it were possible that Ron would ever stop growing. With a splattering of freckles and a mop of ginger hair, Ron was nearly 6''3.

Hermione had grown a few inches taller but was a dwarf compared to Ron. Her infamous bushy hair had gotten a little tamer, flowing in copious waves down her back, but hadn't lost much of its density.

It was often very funny to watch Ron and Hermione argue, because despite the fact she was so much shorter than he was, Hermione always was the dominant one. Ron rarely got in the last word.

"Hey Gin. I was wondering if you could do me a favor and tell this **inconsiderate jerk**, that Crookshanks has feelings too!" Hermione tartly questioned, her eyes darting quickly to her amused sister-in-law, then back to Ron.

Ron snorted.

"Oh, that's just **rich**, Mione. He's a bloody cat! He has no feelings! Just the instinct to eat anything in sight! He's like a bloody trash compactor!" Ron bellowed, his face flushing with indignation.

Ginny walked over to the stove and leaned against it, Ron on her left side and Hermione on her right.

"Ron will you calm down? He didn't mean it! Besides, you told me the day before it was just a rough draft! You shouldn't have left it out near his feeding bowl, anyway!" Hermione snapped, shoving her hands on her hips.

From the pieces of information she had, Ginny figured that Crookshanks had tarnished a roll of parchment that contained Ron's latest article. Ron of course, had probably thrown a fit and Hermione, unable to resist an argument, hadn't backed down.

Ginny sighed, though smiling.

"Yeah well, that bloody cat is a nuisance!" the wizard barked.

Suddenly, he turned to Ginny and forced out a hearty grin.

"Oh, hello Ginny. Didn't see you come in."

With that, he turned back to Hermione, his face redder than ever.

"You're such a prat, Ronald Weasley! I don't even know why I married you!" Hermione screeched, though Ginny could tell she was trying oh-so-hard not to giggle.

I mean, who wouldn't feel the urge to laugh at an angry Ron? Ginny knew first hand, that whenever Ron got extremely angry, he unfortunately started to resemble an overgrown tomato.

It was the curse of having red hair.

Ron slyly grinned and slung an arm around Hermione, gazing down at her.

"That's not what you said last night," he huskily whispered, waggling his eyebrows.

Hermione laughed and sharply pushed him away.

"You're terrible, Ron."

Ron grinned and then turned to Ginny, leaning against the countertop behind him.

"Now, did you say something, Gin?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Mum wants to know if we can borrow Pig," Ginny replied, referring to Ron's owl.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. He was a bit possessive when it came to his personal belongings. Then again, when you were living in a household as large as theirs, you had a right to be picky about whom you let borrow things. You might never see them again.

"Why?"

"Errol crashed into the window, again. And we need to send out all those invitations by midnight, or people won't RSVP in time," Ginny impatiently explained.

Ron brightened at the mention of the wedding and nodded.

"Oh, right. Of course. I'll go get her."

With that, he walked down the hall and into his bedroom.

"How's the wedding planning going?" Hermione curiously asked, while taking out a can of soda for herself.

"Fine, I guess. Chaotic but that's to be expected. I just hope everything works itself out in the end," Ginny confessed with a weak grin.

Hermione smiled and waved Ginny's statement away, as though it were a bothersome fly.

"I'm sure everything will turn out beautiful. You went to Harrod's for the flowers, right? They're much cheaper than Luke's. I think Susan Bone's mother owns the shop. You could probably get a discount."

"Yeah, they were less expensive than Luke's. How's the lesson planning going for next term?" Ginny politely wondered.

Hermione had recently gotten a job as a professor at Hogwarts. She would start teaching Muggle Studies in the fall.

Hermione shrugged, then gave out a little laugh.

"To tell you the truth, awful. I have so much to say. I just don't know how to organize it all," she answered.

Ginny laughed and was interrupted by the clobbering of feet coming up the hall. Ron was holding Pig on his outstretched arm.

"Here you go. Take care of her," he ordered, handing her to his sister.

"Don't worry, I will," Ginny confirmed.

Ginny started back towards the spare bedroom, carefully balancing the owl. Scolding herself, she stopped and turned around.

"Bugger, I almost forget. Mione, you're coming over later this afternoon, right?"

Hermione instantly nodded, setting down her can of soda.

"Yeah. I might be about five minutes late, though. Ron wanted me to go pick up his robes with him, see if they fit right and what not," Hermione warned.

Ron quizzically looked at Hermione.

"Coming over for what? How come _I_ wasn't invited?" he demanded.

"Hermione and I have to go shoe shopping. And you're not invited because I know for a fact, dear Ronniekins, that you would complain the entire time," Ginny sweetly explained.

"Oh. Right. Cheers. I guess I'll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal," he replied, with a bashful grin.

Ginny laughed, marveling at how dense her brother could be sometimes.

"Bye!"

* * *

The rest of the early afternoon proved to be long and dull. Ginny spent the entirety of it helping her mother send out invitations. After all 75 invitations were sent out and Ginny thought her hand was about to fall off from tying so many to Pig and _(a newly recovered) _Errol's legs, Hermione showed up.

From there, the two apparated to Jump, Skip, Leap, which was the best shop for formal shoes. Ginny was by the window display, admiring a pair of gorgeous, champagne colored heels, when her breath nearly caught in her throat.

A man, about twenty-three, briskly walked down the street, his head hung low, dressed in a pair of stylish but worn-in, black trousers and a deep red, Polo shirt. His hair was jet-black and shaggy, his glasses round. A wand was sticking out his back pocket.

Could it be? Could it be _him?_

Ginny watched with diligence as the man walked by. He looked up for a moment and disappointment filled her heart. It hadn't been him…just some unknown stranger.

It would never be him. Maybe they were all right…maybe it really was time to give up hope.

"Ginny? What are you looking at?" Hermione wondered, coming up to her friend's side, a box underneath her arm.

Ginny sighed, letting her shoulders slump and turned to Hermione.

"I just thought I saw…I thought it might be—never mind," she dismissed, feeling rather foolish.

Hermione frowned and set the shoebox on the windowsill. Silently, she craned her neck forward and spotted the man who Ginny had mistaken for Harry.

"You thought it was him, didn't you?" the elder witch softly wondered, turning her attention back to Ginny.

Ginny blushed and studied the shoes, wondering if Hermione thought she was a complete imbecile. She had grown a lot closer to Hermione, but she wasn't entirely sure if her confusion towards the wedding, Harry and Dean was something that she fully wanted to share.

She didn't want anyone to worry about her. Being the only girl in a family full of boys, Ginny was used to having everyone treat her like she was a fragile piece of china; unable to handle the problems of the real world because its harshness and severity would cause her to break.

But Ginny was twenty-two, nearly twenty-three and she was simply tired of being treated like a little, naïve girl. She didn't need to hold onto someone's hand and have them ward off the monsters. She could do it herself, _thank you very much. _

"Yeah, for a moment. I know it's dumb. I'm just having a hard time adjusting to a life without him."

Hermione nodded, remorse washing over her features.

"Same here. It's hard to spend nearly all of your life with someone, then the next minute they're gone. But Ginny, just because you've moved on doesn't mean you have to forget about him completely," she solemnly suggested.

Ginny sighed and met Hermione's eyes. She'd kind of forgotten that she wasn't the only one hurting because of Harry's disappearance.

"I know. And you're positively right. It's just that no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to let go. Oh Merlin, it's a week before my wedding and I'm **still** obsessing about Harry. Please tell me I'm not a complete moron," Ginny huffed with exasperation.

Hermione slyly grinned.

"Well, maybe not a **complete** one."

Ginny laughed in spite of her sour mood.

"Wow, thanks, Hermione."

It was rather unusual to witness Hermione jest. But the more and more she hung around Ron, teasing became second nature.

"Anytime, Gin. Anyway, my point is that it's perfectly natural to have a hard time coping with something as tragic as what you've been through. Frankly, I'd be quite surprised if you had an _easy_ time adjusting. Just don't spend the rest of your life wondering about the past."

"Even if you did go back in time, you couldn't have changed anything. Harry would have wanted you to be happy. And from the way your face just lights up whenever you see Dean, I'm sure this wedding is the right choice," Hermione sincerely assured, with a warm smile.

Surprisingly, Ginny found comfort in Hermione's words. Maybe it was because Ginny was frustrated with pondering about Harry. Or maybe it was because she was tired of making up excuses for her doubts about the wedding. Whatever it was, Ginny decided that for today, she would concentrate on the here and now, instead of then and there.

"I guess you're right. I mean, Dean's **perfect** for me. I'd be stupid to let him get away. Now, I think I spotted some _adorable_ sandals over there that would match perfectly with your dress!"

With that, Ginny led Hermione to the far back wall, forcing herself to be cheerful, although she couldn't help but ponder an alarming realization.

If she was so much over Harry as she claimed, **why couldn't she stop thinking about him? **

And why…for some reason unknown to her…did she have a feeling something major was about to happen sooner than expected?

* * *

Harry quickly mumbled thanks to the driver as he departed from the Knight Bus. Usually, he would have been a lot more enthusiastic but for some reason, everyone had treated him like a leper. When he had asked for a hot chocolate, the attendant had nearly jumped out of his skin. And all throughout the ride, the various passengers constantly stared at him as though he had five heads.

It was all too weird.

With an ear-shattering pop, the bus vanished into the late afternoon sky. Harry guessed it was around four, or four-thirty at the latest. He hoped that she was home, or at least someone of the Weasley family. He hadn't been able to sleep at all during the three-hour ride from France to London. This was of course, due to the constant potholes and frantic driving of the bus driver.

The Knight Bus was not known for its smooth rides and this one was no exception. The driver would proceed to dodge a muggle or car and therefore cause the entire bus to sway side to side like a dingy fishing boat caught in a monstrous storm.

In fact, Harry hadn't slept for about a week. This week, of course, had been his fortunate freedom from the bondage of amnesia. As soon as he recovered his memory, he'd spent the entire week trying to track down how to get home. He didn't regret his lack of sleep though, because he had been determined to get back.

Who would want to waste time by sleeping, when home was just within his grasp? His eyes felt like heavy doors made of steel, about to shut at any moment, but Harry still couldn't stop smiling.

It took all of his willpower not to skip up the dirt driveway of the Burrow and pound on the door with excitement.

He reached the steps and sighed, observing the house. It hadn't changed a day.

He knocked heavily on the door and anxiously waited. He couldn't wait to see Ginny's reaction. His goofy grin hastily transformed into an uneasy frown. A frightening thought crossed his mind. What if she had forgotten him?

He heard the sound of feet approaching the door and quickly dismissed the doubt. How could she have forgotten about him? That was just plain silly. Though he knew his visit was highly expected, he was pretty sure she could never have forgotten about him.

She just **couldn't **have.

The door slowly swung open and Harry was absolutely beaming. There she was…standing in front of him…looking even more beautiful than ever. Oh, how he had missed her. All he wanted to do was scoop her in his arms and never, ever let go….

Her eyes widened in shock. A hand flew to her mouth and the tint of her skin turned as white as baking flour.

"But-but-you-I thought"

The words fumbled out of her mouth and filled the silence that had fallen upon them.

Did she know how much he had missed her? It felt like he'd been ripped from everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever loved…ripped from mankind itself and now was returning after a century of being blinded by darkness. It was so surreal to see her standing there, almost as though he were still dreaming.

She reached out a hand and gently touched his shoulder, then instantly pulled back, gasping with surprise.

Harry could only smile at her, though he was disturbed by her reaction. He was expecting something well…a little more warm and inviting than this. Something more along the lines of a big hug and kiss?

Harry sighed and thought of the only thing he could think of.

_"Well, I'm home."_

Suddenly, exhaustion stealthily crept upon him and seized his consciousness. His head felt like it was flooded with helium. Like a rag doll, his knees collapsed and he crumbled to the floor.

Her terribly bewildered face was the last thing he saw.


	5. i never said thank you for that

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

-A/N: Oy vey, yeah I made a mistake about the Pig thing. Honestly, for reasons unknown to me, I was convinced that **she** was a **he.** Oh well. Haha. As for the thing about Harry and why he had to save money to buy a house, this story was written before HBP came out and even before I finished OOTP. So the idea didn't really strike me that Harry could just use the money he inherited from Sirius. I knew from the previous books that Harry had money, but I figured after graduation he'd want to stick around with Ron. _(At least in this story haha). _But thanks to **mashimaromadness** for pointing that out.

Peace,

Gene.

_P.S. Aeternus Deflagratio is a made-up spell. It's Latin…for…something. Haha. I used to have the translation but it got deleted when decided to go and erase practically everything in my account. I'm still searching for the meaning though!_

* * *

Darkness clawed at him, smothering him like a musty, wool blanket. Choking and sputtering, he attempted to call out for help but discovered he was mute.

_What was going on?_

He reached in his pocket for his wand but resulted with a fistful of smoldering ash. He couldn't see that well; whatever was approaching his line of vision was merely a dark gray blob, its crimson eyes leering at him through a mass of black fabric.

Harry wasn't afraid, though nervous. His wand lay in ruins, he had lost his voice and he was trapped in an unknown sea of obscurity. Harry knew from previous experience that it was never a positive thing to be caught off your guard. He lifted a hand to his forehead, an overwhelming sharp pain stabbing his temples like a swift knife.

His mouth flew open in a cry of distress, though not a sound erupted. Something stirred deep within his heart. There was only one explanation for this. It had to be **him…**

The dark, shapeless figure reached out a hand and slowly removed its weathered cloak. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in outrage. He'd taken so many lives already…he had to be destroyed for the benefit of the wizarding world and mankind.

And of course…there was **her** to worry about, to think about. He'd been prepared for situations like this, using magic without a wand. It'd taken him some time to grasp but his skills surpassed his mediocre confidence. He prayed that his skills wouldn't falter, his teeth clenched together in determination.

He was in the middle of the incantation, when out of nowhere, a glorious, dark green light spouted out of the end of its wand.

And before he could protest, Harry was shoved back into the greedy clutches of darkness, as a vision of scarlet hair dancing in a summer's breeze and the warmth of her teasing smile sent his heart aflutter.

**Could this be the end?**

_"Harry…Harry…Harry, please wake up…!"_

The voice was oddly familiar and docile. He was sure he'd heard it many times before…somewhere….

"Harry, are you all right?"

He slowly fluttered his eyes open and found them gazing into the worried blue orbs of Ginny Weasley. So it had all been just a dream. Harry was speechless at first and could only throw her a lazy smile in response.

She looked just the way he had remembered her. Her hair had grown a little longer and had gotten a little fuller, but everything was relatively the same. She appeared just like she had **that** summer, the summer before pandemonium had struck and he'd been forced to leave her.

It was all too good to true. After weeks of wandering around the hills of France without a memory and nearly a year trying to get home, Harry was beginning to doubt his sight.

It comforted him to know that things like this hadn't changed.

"Ginny? Is it really you?" he cautiously whispered.

Her cheeks were flushed a light hue of baby pink and her eyes were wide like two oversized pearls…and he'd never seen anyone more beautiful.

Ginny nodded, tears hiding in the corners of her eyes. When she reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm, Harry **knew** he was awake.

"Yes, it's me. You had me scared for a moment, there," she quietly confessed.

Harry struggled to sit up and realized he was in a bedroom. And judging by the excess amount of Chudley Cannons paraphernalia, it was Ron's bedroom. He couldn't help but inwardly chuckle, as he took a quick glance at the sheets, which were also decorated in the colors of the red head's favorite Qudditch team.

"Why, what happened?" Harry anxiously wondered, focusing back on Ginny.

She sighed, looked down at her hand and pulled it away, as though she felt guilty for leaving it there.

"Well, I came up here to check on you and you were shaking and mumbling something. I felt your forehead and it was all clammy. I tried to wake you up but nothing worked."

Harry was a little alarmed at this revelation but for the most part, couldn't care less. He was at the Burrow, talking to Ginny. That was enough for him.

"How long have I been out?" he questioned, adjusting himself against the headboard.

"About a day. You arrived yesterday and just collapsed on the doorstep. I was so worried; I didn't know what to do. Dad situated you up stairs, in here. Mum was especially worried, but Dad said it was best just to let you sleep."

"Wow. Only a day? It felt much longer than that," he responded, with slight awe.

Ginny nodded.

"We didn't know when you would wake up."

Harry noticed that the house was relatively quiet, which was rather unusual. Harry knew that all of the Weasley children were grown and had places of their own, but usually someone from the clan was hanging around, excluding Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Where is everyone? I mean, where's your Mum and Dad? The house is so quiet. It's weird," Harry admitted with a sheepish smile.

She laughed.

"Mum went out shopping. I think she wanted to make a welcome home dinner for you. But just don't tell her I said that. It'd spoil her surprise. Dad's working at the Ministry, of course. The rest of my brothers are out and about, as usual. Ron's probably doing something with Hermione," Ginny offhandedly filled in.

Harry nodded, taking the information in. Speaking of Ron and Hermione, he hadn't seen them since the last battle. He wondered if Ron had finally gotten the nerve to propose to Hermione. The last time he had talked to him, Harry had been trying to convince Ron to even buy the engagement ring.

"Ron propose to Hermione yet? Cause if he didn't, I swear I'll hex him," Harry teased.

Ginny laughed, feeling more comfortable than before. At first, she wasn't sure how to act around Harry. Would he be any different than before? What if time had transformed him into a total stranger? But it was becoming more and more evident that he was the same.

"Fortunately, you can save your hexing skills for another time. They got married last year. Hermione lives with Ron in the old apartment. He got a job as a sports journalist for _Qudditch Illustrated_. Mione got a teaching job at Hogwarts," Ginny supplied.

Harry couldn't help but grin. It was relieving to hear good news about his two best friends.

"Teaching what?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and snorted.

"What else? Muggle Studies!"

Harry had to chuckle at that.

"Looks like things haven't changed that much, after all," he observed.

Ginny's smile instantly dropped off her face. She gazed down at the sheets and fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt, her hair falling like a curtain in her face. Obviously, some things **had** changed and Ginny wasn't too eager on revealing them. Harry could only stare at her in silence, wondering why the news was too horrible for him to hear.

He should have known before that life wouldn't be exactly the same since his absence. Ginny had been awful anxious when first talking to him, as though she was afraid he'd jump up and bite her. Only after he started joking around, did she unthaw.

Harry gingerly reached out and tucked a few strands of hair behind Ginny's ear. She shivered, though not from the external breeze. Secretly, he was overjoyed that he still had such an effect on her but retained his calm composure. He had to get to the bottom of her behavior.

"Ginny…I've missed you. More than you know."

She lifted her head and looked him the eye, then exhaled, as though what she were about to say would have serious repercussions.

"Harry, I missed you too. Maybe **too** much, in fact," she whispered with a weak smile.

And suddenly her face appeared very old. Not old as in aging with wrinkles, per say, but old as in matured. Weathered. It was the face of someone who's seen too much destruction to simply forget.

The expression of someone who's had their heart stomped on too many times. It was the type of expression Harry used to have, before he returned, when he sat up at night, gazing up into the depths of the stars, wondering when he'd ever get his memory back.

He wanted to take her in his arms but he wasn't entirely sure that was suitable.

"Ginny," he began as he reached for her hand.

Ginny shook her head, and recoiled a bit, her voice coming out strangled.

"Harry, when you vanished…I couldn't think. I didn't know what to do. It was all so outrageous, like I was having a nightmare or something."

Harry felt his stomach twist into a huge knot. This certainly gave the illusion that what she was about to say was horrible…like she was _engaged _or something. Harry inwardly scoffed at such a _ludicrous_ idea.

He was positive that Ginny loved him, as much as he loved her. Why in the world would she get engaged to someone else? Besides…in just a few days…Harry was planning on asking the renowned question, himself.

"Gin, it was horrible for me, too. I was stricken with a case of amnesia, you know. But I kept seeing your face…it was driving me **crazy**. I wasn't sure who or what I was running to but I couldn't stay in France any longer."

Ginny peered at him intently at this new piece of information.

"That's where you were this entire time? France?"

Harry nodded.

"Everyone thinks that when the explosion happened, it was Voldemort's death. It actually was the disruption of the curses we had attempted to put on each other. We cast them practically at the same time, you see. Because my wand is a brother with his, the spells backfired. For some strange reason, it acted as a port key. It was just he and I…somewhere in the unknowns of France."

"We paced in circles around each other for a bit…a stare down, if you will. I didn't want him to get the best of me. I was so blinded by rage, Ginny. I hadn't _really _wished death upon anyone before…until I saw the malice in his snakelike eyes."

He paused for a moment, the image flooding back to him. He could _smell_ the air…**taste** the tension humming between them like electricity. He shut his eyes for a moment and he felt Ginny grab onto his hand. His fingers clasped around hers and his eyes indolently were thrown open. She was gazing at him with slight fear and curiosity, silently persisting him to continue.

"He said that he was surprised I had lasted this long. I didn't say anything, though. I was too consumed by my hatred. He told me he could read my mind, told me if I didn't resist…it wouldn't be painless. I took the chance to disarm him. His wand flew into my hand and I clutched on to it."

"I figured if I used both wands at the same time, it would finish him for good. He just laughed. It sounded like nails against a chalkboard."

Harry inhaled shakily, his eyes boring into Ginny's. Her face had turned pale. He really didn't want to relive this one, particular past memory but she needed to know.

"He muttered something I couldn't make out. And I felt my knees go weak. I fell to the ground and he strolled over to me, as though it were simply routine. He kicked me around a bit and both wands rolled a few inches away from my grasp. I thought I was going to die…you know. And I wasn't afraid of death, because maybe then I'd be able to really meet my parents."

Ginny felt her heart crumble into a thousand pieces at his dejected statement. More than ever, she felt herself longing for him. He'd endured so much…and to sit there and tell him she was getting married in seven days?

It would be a slap in the face. She would **always** love Harry, though. Maybe because he had been her first love…her first real kiss. **A girl could get kissed a million times but that didn't mean any of them caused her to see fireworks. **

But as more and more people advised her to move on, she finally convinced herself it was all for the best. A part of her died that day, when she convinced herself Harry Potter had perished and was never coming back. Now that he was sitting in her brother's bed, very alive and very real, she was **beyond** mixed up.

Her entire world had been turned upside down by the only person who could ever make it right.

"My scar started to hurt. It was like a searing, white-hot pain I'd never felt before. I knew I had to get his wand. Something at that moment told me the pain of my scar would effect the magic of the wand. His foot was crushing my chest and I could hardly breath. He leered at me as he took my wand and snapped it in half. I was scared…scared for the first time in a long time. I was scared that I'd never get the chance to see you again."

"He either didn't notice or didn't care that I was reaching for his wand. Probably thought I was too weak. But I was able to grab it. And I pointed it right at his chest and with all the spite I could muster, said 'Aeternus Deflagratio'. If I had known the curse would have side affects because of my scar, I probably would have used a different one. But it's probably best, because it did the job. Except for the fact I got amnesia."

He stated the last part with a good-natured smirk, to ease some of the solemn grief of the situation. The important thing was that he was home now. The past was behind him.

Ginny was dumbstruck by Harry's tale. It was astonishing.

"Why did it take you nearly a year to get home?"

Harry sighed, tiring of explanations.

"When I woke up, I was in a local farmer's house. He didn't speak English that well, but I was able to get the gist of it all. I found out that the battle had actually taken place in his field. When he had went outside to check on some of the crops, he found me unconscious. He didn't recognize me and was going to call the police, but both his wife and daughter were witches."

"They figured out who I was by the scar and glasses, you know. So they took me in. I woke up a week later with an awful headache. The farmer explained everything to me and his wife immediately tried to feed me," he replied with a hollow chuckle.

Ginny was totally captured by his tale.

"I didn't understand any of it, though. I mean they kept telling me I defeated You-Know-Who and I had no idea what they were talking about. It kind of freaked me out. How did you know so much about me when I was clueless? A week later, I got a job at a pub in town. The town was relatively provincial and away from Paris, so not many people knew who I was."

"I explained to the owner of the pub I didn't have a place to stay and he happily let me rent out a room upstairs. I spent the next few months saving up money. It was hard because I worked long hours but the wages were pretty low. I also figured that if I gave it some time, my memory would come back. It never did. There I was, with a broken wand, just barely enough money and no recollection as to who I was."

"When I got enough money, I went to a local Healer to see if she had some kind of antidote. Fortunately, she did. But the only set back was that it was so strong, I could only take a small dosage at a time. I was forced to stay in France until my memory recovered, which took about six weeks. But I could tell it was working, because I would always have dreams…about just talking with Ron and Hermione…or…Sirius…most of them were about you, though."

His gaze traveled towards the window, his mind now far away from the Burrow. It was odd sitting there with Ginny, discussing his journey like some kind of childhood legend or myth. Something gave way in his heart and he felt a pang of sadness.

He'd spent nearly a year of his life trapped in a strange place, without any contact from the people he cared for. He could have been doing something else during that year…but instead he had been wandering like a lost puppy, searching for the place and people he called home.

"My memory came back too. But I was a bit naïve. I wasn't aware anyone had thought I'd gone missing…or dead. I don't think I realized how much time actually had passed. I couldn't figure out why everyone was making a big fuss about seeing me. I decided to take the Knight Bus home."

"I first paid a visit to the French couple I told you about before. The farmer and his wife, remember? I thanked them for everything they had done and they gave me a bit of money for the bus fare. They also fixed my wand. I was planning on getting it fixed when I saved enough money, but the antidote left me nearly broke again. After that…well, the rest as they say, is history."

Ginny's eyes watered, her lips trembling. All the hurt and anguish she'd experienced during his disappearance bubbled to the surface like boiling water. She had missed him so much…and sooner or later, she would have to break his heart.

"Oh, Harry! You just don't know…you don't know, you don't know how hard this is for me," she mumbled.

Harry gave her a concerned look of worry, swung his legs over the wrinkled sheets and securely wrapped his arms around her. He didn't exactly know what she meant by that statement, but brushed it aside. Ginny felt herself melt into his embrace, her face burying into his neck.

Harry savored the moment and stroked her hair, resting his chin on top of her head. He was grateful that he had finally finished explaining the long journey home. He was just about to go crazy not being able to hold her.

Something inside of him let out a sigh of relief as he enjoyed the skin to skin contact.

Harry was never a bold or extremely suave guy when it came to the subject of girls, but around Ginny…he felt at ease.

"Ginny, _I love you_," he very airily whispered into her hair.

He didn't want to spoil the moment and startle her, but he couldn't resist. Ginny only sniffled and he figured she hadn't heard him.

But unknown to Harry, he had thought wrong. At the sound of those words, Ginny panicked. After all, what were you supposed to say to the guy who you thought had died, then collapsed on your doorstep a year later? Not to mention the fact you were getting married in less than a week to one of his friends.

Ginny shut her eyes, pretended she hadn't heard him and prayed for a miracle.

Because she knew if this wedding was going to happen, she'd certainly need one.


	6. i thought i might get, one more chance

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

* * *

_A/N: _With the fall comes school, which means updates will be less frequent. I'm already loaded with homework! It's quite sad. Anyway, thank you for all the feedback for chapter five. I enjoyed reading what everyone had to say. Here's the next installment of _Hear You Me_. I hope you like it.

_-Gene_

* * *

Dinner at the Weasley household couldn't have been any more awkward on Harry's part or embarrassing on Ginny's hand. Both Mr. and Weasley experienced a bit of uncertainty; walking on eggshells in their choice of conversation. Mrs. Weasley had the fixed notion that Harry was utterly starving and wouldn't stop heaving food onto his plate until Ginny, out of frustration, pointed out the obvious.

Mr. Weasley seemed all right, but every six seconds, would peek at Harry and study his disposition, as though the young wizard was morbidly depressed and on a "suicide watch". Harry had ended up staying the night, much to her parent's satisfaction.

He'd eventually told both Weasley's about his strenuous journey, though void of all the confessions directed towards Ginny. Mrs. Weasley had gone absolutely pale at Harry's reenactment and Mr. Weasley's usual inquisitive nature had been thwarted.

After dinner, which _(surprise, surprise)_ was an absolute feast, Ginny had ventured outside to get some air. Or rather, do some thinking. But instead, she bumped into Harry, who was sitting in a beat-up lawn chair, gazing up at the stars. They ended up talking, which consisted mainly of her filling him in on the lives of their various friends and him patiently soaking it all up.

Of course, she'd left out her engagement to Dean.

It was about nine in the morning when Ginny barreled down stairs, still dressed in her pajamas. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she was greeted with her mother attempting to put more toast on Harry's already piled plate, who was politely protesting while engaging in a conversation that suspiciously sounded like how something called a "tellavisor" worked.

Ginny snatched a plate from the cupboard, gathered some toast, bacon and a scoop of scrambled eggs, and then situated herself in the empty seat next to Harry. She couldn't help but notice that now that he'd gotten a well-deserved rest and meal, the sparkle in his eyes had rejuvenated along with the infectious, lazy grin on his lips. He took a moment to smile at her and Ginny, shockingly enough, blushed.

Instantly, she scowled down at her scrambled eggs. What was _wrong_ with her? He'd only smiled at her and she was turning into a little third year. This was Harry, for Pete's sake!

"Did you get enough to eat, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley anxiously wondered, doing a very good job at ignoring the five pieces of untouched toast on his plate.

Harry laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, thanks Mrs. Weasley. But I don't think I can eat anymore," Harry gratefully replied.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and smiled, then turned back to the stove, muttering something about growing boys and needing nutrients.

"So, Harry, do you have a place to stay? Because we'd be happy to let you use a room, if you need it," Mr. Weasley sincerely offered.

Harry swallowed his spoonful of scrambled eggs and shook his head.

"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Weasley, but I've already got my own apartment. In fact, it's a few minutes away from Ron's."

"All right then. But if you need anything, just say the word and we'll be there," the older wizard reminded.

Harry nodded.

"Believe me, I know."

* * *

Later that day, Ginny was hanging around Harry's flat, watching a muggle soap opera in his room. Though Harry resided in the wizarding world, he still kept muggle inventions around the house. Ginny wondered why in the world he'd insist on keeping muggle things, but Harry had explained to her that because of all the time he'd spent outside the wizarding world with the Dursleys, he was used to it. Besides, Ginny had to hand it to him; this 'television' thing was pretty cool.

How did all those muggles stay in that tiny little box for so long?

After breakfast, Harry had decided to head back to his apartment. He had sent an owl to Ron and Hermione the night before and had plans on meeting up with them that afternoon. The couple was, without a doubt, overjoyed and quite surprised to hear from Harry and insisted that he stop on by whenever he was available.

Ginny wasn't planning on accompanying him, due to the fact she had arranged to meet up with Dean. However, Harry had been persistent. Ginny had argued that Harry would want some time with his two best friends, but Harry had argued she was as much a friend to him, as he were to Ron and Hermione.

In the end, Ginny figured as long as she left in time to catch Dean, there wouldn't be a problem. Besides, it would be the first time a year that Harry, her brother, Hermione and herself had hung out.

The soap opera, entitled "General Hospital" ended with the typical overly dramatic music and Ginny began to get antsy. What was taking him so long? Her eyes gazed at her surroundings, ignoring the next program. The room, due to Harry's prolonged absence, hadn't changed at all since the last time she'd seen it.

The walls were painted ivory and barely decorated, with the exception of a poster of some band called The Rolling Stones_, (which she presumed were muggles)_, a framed photograph of Lily and James, another framed photograph of Ron, Hermione and Harry and a blank, medium-sized corkboard hanging over his desk.

The queen-sized bed was located in the center of the room, with a nightstand on either side. Ginny noted with nostalgic happiness, that a framed picture of her and Harry, with his arm draped across her shoulder after a victorious Qudditch game, was sitting on the left nightstand.

Ginny sighed. How simply complicated things were, back then. It had been Harry's last year at Hogwarts and Ginny was absolutely sick and tired of just being friends with The Boy Who Lived. Everything seemed so complicated. She'd gone crazy; wondering when she'd get the courage to admit her feelings to him. But compared to now…it was the easiest task in the world.

Ginny tore her eyes away from the picture and studied the rest of the room.

The TV rested upon a wide bookshelf in front of the bed. A large lamp stood on the left side of the room, in the corner, opposite the desk. On the right side of the room a door was placed, which ventured off into the master bathroom.

Which he was in right now…in the shower…

As if snapped out of a daze, she quickly remembered she was in Harry's **bedroom** and immediately felt uncomfortable. Was this even allowed for an engaged woman?

"Oy, Harry! Are you done yet?" Ginny called.

Ginny heard the blast of the shower cease.

"Just a second!"

Ginny turned her attention back to the TV, smirking a bit.

"Are you trying to put that gel stuff in your hair again? Because trust me, it only comes out looking like a porcupine. And who really wants to look-"

The words died on her lips as the bathroom door opened and a billow of steam escaped. Ginny was absolutely awestruck. Harry frowned at her in confusion, ignoring the fact he was standing in front of Ginny in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Shetried with all her might to focus on his face, but her eyes lingered on his toned abdominal muscles. **She was like a fish out of water, greedily gulping for oxygen.** And just for the record, it wasn't necessarily the most attractive pose.

"Can you hand me that shirt behind you?" Harry questioned, oblivious to Ginny's involuntary bewilderment.

Ginny snapped her mouth shut, beyond embarrassed but even more humiliated to let him know this and tossed the shirt to him.

"Thanks."

Harry paused, studying her expression. Ginny was grateful towards Harry's ignorance in connection to her behavior. He was nearly as bad as Ron. And that was saying something.

"Ginny, you feeling ok?"

"Yes! I mean, yeah why?" she fumbled, her voice immediately spilling out scratchy and squeaky.

She had to play it cool. Why was she freaking out anyway? This was Harry, only Harry. What she had with him was **over**. She was getting married in less than a week. Just because he was relatively attractive with a good set of abs didn't mean she had to lose her cool.

Although they were a very nice set of abs…

Quickly, Ginny inwardly scolded herself. NO! Bad Ginny! Now was not the time to be thinking about ex-boyfriends and their six packs.

Harry chuckled, slinging the shirt over his shoulder.

"You looked….I don't know, really peculiar for a moment. Like you choked on something," Harry plainly informed with an amused smirk.

Ginny let out a forced laugh, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. It was like she was trapped in first year all over again, tripping on her words and blushing at every little gesture. What had happened to the calm, levelheaded _(for_ _the most part)_ and mature Ginny Weasley?

Harry Potter had showed up…in a towel for that matter. That's what.

"I thought I saw…er- a bug. I hate bugs, you know. Nasty little buggers."

Ginny knew Harry didn't believe her but brushed it off.

"All right, then. Well, I'm going to change. Think you can avoid any near-death situations with flesh-eating bugs until then?" Harry wondered with sarcastic concern.

Ginny rolled her eyes, going along with his teasing. She actually liked that Harry was joking around. The events of the past year had clearly dampened his spirits and Ginny only wanted the best for Harry.

"I'll try," she vowed with a coy smile.

Harry returned her smile, then headed back into the bathroom. As soon as the door clicked shut, Ginny flopped on her back, onto the bed. Frowning, her mind was going a mile a minute. Maybe it was best if she skipped hanging out with the three of them that afternoon.

It wasn't like she really needed to be there. Besides, Ron and Hermione most likely wanted to spend time with just Harry. The three were extremely close and had been the best of friends for almost all their lives. Ginny's intrusion would probably be unwanted.

Her subconscious snickered wickedly.

_You just want to think of an excuse so you can avoid Harry!_

Ginny sighed in frustration. Maybe she **was** making up excuses to avoid Harry. But his arrival and now this…it was too much to handle at once. She really **did** need to converse with Dean about the wedding, as well.

_How in the world am I going to pull this wedding off?_

* * *

Ginny sat on Dean's couch, checking over the list of expenses. Fortunately, she had been able to hastily think up an inconvenience that would prohibit her from joining the three friends. Harry had looked skeptical when she'd fibbed and said she had a hair appointment, but Hermione had taken the hint and covered for her.

The three friends had decided to hang around Ron and Hermione's for a bit, just catching up on things. Then, Hermione and Ron were going to treat Harry to lunch at one of their favorite restaurants.

Ginny's eyes flickered over the rather long list. She felt guilty that Dean would be paying for most of the cost. Dean and his family weren't exactly bathing in billions but they were very well off. And then again, he had continuously insisted.

Dean's apartment was slightly bigger than Ron and Hermione's. It was for the most part, neat and tidy. But this was due to the fact Ginny hated clutter and found herself picking up after him. It was located in the town of Cambridge, which was just a few hours away from London. The two planned to buy a house after they got married.

"Oy, Dean! Why are some of these things highlighted?" Ginny called over her shoulder. Dean appeared from the kitchen, with two glasses of butter beer in his hands.

"That stuff is everything I'll be paying for," he explained, handing Ginny a glass.

Ginny's eyes widened.

"That's nearly ¾ of the list," she noted, accepting the beverage.

Dean shrugged.

"..And your point is?" he teased, with a good-natured grin.

Ginny laughed. That was one the things she loved about him. He was so selfless when it came to her. Anything he could do for her benefit, he would gladly oblige to. He was the kind of guy that would take off his coat and let you use it as an alternate walkway, so you wouldn't have to step into a puddle. He had a quirky sense of humor as well and Ginny loved the fact he was always challenging her.

It didn't hurt that he was good looking, either. Dean was the type of guy who had the "classic" appearance. He was tall, dark and handsome with laughing eyes and full, gorgeous lips.

He didn't have to try too hard to look good, but because Dean had grown up in the muggle world, he favored trends and the fashions of that environment. This, of course, was an asset. Dean didn't like to go shopping, unless it had to do with Qudditch but nevertheless, knew how to dress.

And by golly, could that boy dress well.

He was neither arrogant nor cocky, but sometimes could be oversensitive. He had an air of quiet dignity about him. To Ginny's content, Dean didn't carry around that whole "tough guy" act, that some of guys she had dated in past possessed. Although, on occasion, he did have bit of a potty mouth.

Though Dean preferred staying at home with Ginny, he wouldn't object to a night out on the town or a good party. In a word, he was very versatile.

The two had always "clicked" and Ginny hadn't been that surprised when Dean had proposed.

"Dean, I told you before. You don't have to feel like you need to pay for everything. I can handle some of it."

Dean nodded and took the list out of hands.

"I know, you've told me about eighty times. And I've told **you** about eighty times that I **want** to pay. It's not like this is some kind of cruel and unusual torture for me, you know? I said I'll pay for most of it and I'm going to," he firmly replied, setting the piece of lined paper onto the coffee table in front of them.

Ginny frowned.

"You sure I can't change your mind? I don't feel like it's fair."

Dean rolled his eyes, though it wasn't meant to be offensive.

"Gin, it's not a problem. Honestly!"

She smiled in spite of herself and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" she softly informed.

She gently placed a hand on his cheek, gazing into his eyes. Sometimes, Ginny wondered why in the world Dean would want to marry her. He was practically perfect and she…well, let's just say planning a wedding wasn't the _worst_ of her current problems.

His lips delivered one of those trademark kisses of his, that tangled up her insides, and the guilt weighed a little less.

"I think it's the opposite way around," he corrected, leaning back, grinning at her.

Ginny smiled and leaned back as well, resting her head on his shoulder. Her mother and Hermione had been right. Dean was the one. Though she had shared a past with Harry, Dean was the one for the future. Why would she want to jeopardize her stable relationship with Dean to something that was shaky?

Ginny was suddenly uneasy. Why was she talking as though she wanted to get back together with Harry?

"Harry's back, you know," she casually informed.

Dean perked up at this, hastily sitting up right.

"Really? How do you know?" he eagerly asked.

"He showed up at the Burrow yesterday. Actually, more like collapsed on the doorstep," she wryly answered.

Dean let out a low whistle.

"And to think, we all thought he was gone for good," Dean observed with amazement.

Ginny nodded.

"I know. He's been through a lot. He had amnesia, that's why it took him so long to get home."

Ginny didn't want to go into details about Harry's homecoming, because it was his business to tell the tale, not hers. Dean's eyes widened.

"Bloody hell! Poor guy. How is he?"

Ginny shrugged, not really knowing the whole truth. True, Harry had appeared fine but he always had a way of bottling his emotions. When it came to very personal experiences and thoughts, Harry was most likely to confine in Hermione or Ron, but also keep some of it to himself. If something were really bothering him, such as those awful detentions with Umbridge, Harry would try to deal with it himself before asking for help.

Maybe it was because he had grown up in a family that's lack of concern and kindness had mentally instilled the theory, "every man for himself." Or maybe it was because for the first half of his adolescence, Harry was essentially alone and was forced to be his own caretaker. Or maybe it was simply a case of stubborn pride. Whatever the matter may be, Harry wasn't the type of person to spill his soul to a stranger.

Not that Dean was a stranger, it was just that Ginny felt that it was Harry's choice to tell other people the complete story, than from a secondary source.

"He seems fine. I talked to him this morning and early this afternoon. He's still a little shaken up about the entire thing but for the most part, he's beyond glad to be home."

Dean nodded.

"I'm not surprised. Does he still live in that flat near Ron and Hermione's? I'd like to stop by sometime."

"Yeah."

"Hey, does he know about the wedding? We should invite him. I'm pretty sure he'd want an invite. I mean…it might be weird because you two you used to date **but** you were friends with him before it happened," Dean rationalized.

Ginny bit her lip.

"No, he doesn't know. And somehow, I think he would want to."


	7. what would you think of me now?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for an update. Life has been getting in the way, as usual. I've been trying to get together my college applications and on top of that, I've got a lot more homework than I've been expecting. Add this together with sports and clubs, and you've basically got my life right now in a nutshell. Fan fiction has moved to the bottom of my priorities list, but that doesn't mean I've completely forgotten about it. Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione were enjoying a delicious lunch at the Weasley's favorite restaurant in the wizarding neighborhood_, Nicholas Nickleby_. All the food was made with fresh ingredients; meals consisted of everything and anything you could think of.

The first level was the ground floor, which the diner first entered. The area consisted of large, round tables and high-backed chairs. The second floor was on a patio outside. The tables were smaller and the chairs less frequent, but at night it was particularly beautiful because the manager had enchanted fireflies to circle around and light up the entire top area.

Ron and Hermione were beyond exuberant, though extremely shocked, to see Harry arrive at their apartment. Hermione had actually burst into alligator tears at the sight of him and Ron's face immediately went pale. Despite the fact they **knew** he was dropping by, they couldn't get over the fact it really was their best friend.

The words hadn't hit them until they saw him in the flesh. Harry had felt a little weird that the two people he relied upon to be the most grounded were freaking out about this arrival, but he let the feeling slip by.

Of **course** they would be shocked at seeing him, it was only a common reaction. He figured that it was just a strange feeling clearly knowing that everyone around you thought you had died.

After catching up on current events, Harry talked about his long journey home. This version was sans the things he had directed to Ginny, of course. Naturally, they both had been dumbstruck with bewilderment.

Hermione kept asking question after question, as though if Harry explained just one more time, it really would have taken place. Ron got so annoyed by this, that he promptly told Hermione to, "Shut up and let the poor man speak!"

Harry had chuckled at this, content that even though he'd been gone for some time, his friends were just as he remembered them. Returning home after an extended absence always broached the idea that the people you once knew had turned into complete strangers. Or maybe because you had been gone so long, **you** were the stranger one.

Whatever the fact was, Harry had been a little nervous. Though of course, this hadn't been a majority of his emotions. He'd mainly been concerned about Ginny and that unexplainable relief of finally returning home.

Now, sitting at Nicholas Nickleby's, Harry felt better than he ever had in the past few days. He was located at a nice restaurant, eating something other than French Bread with his two best friends turned married couple, who in fact, were arguing over the night's special and whether or not it contained nuts.

Everything appeared to be back to normal.

Or at least to Harry's knowledge, it was.

"Hey, I hate to break up your argument but I have a question," Harry interrupted not the least bit regretful.

He had forgotten how much of a searing headache their disputes, most of the time, gave him.

It was as though someone had strangled his or her vocal chords, for the mere sound of Harry's voice brought the argument to an abrupt end.

"Shoot," Ron offered, taking a moment to quickly glare at Hermione.

Harry chuckled, stalling for a moment. Now that Ron was in such a temporary sour mood, he wasn't sure if he should ask his question. It was about Ginny and of course, he wasn't sure that Ron would take it very well. Ron had always been a bit overprotective of his younger sister and despite the fact the two guys were the best of friends, Harry wasn't positive Ron would appreciate him asking about Ginny's love life.

Or the fact that Harry was going to propose to her.

No, somehow Harry didn't envision Ron grinning and offering him his blessings. But Ron and Hermione were really the only ones he could ask. He didn't feel comfortable discussing it with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Fred and George were even more cautious when dealing with Ginny and the general subject of dating.

Harry had unfortunately witnessed what had happened to Malcolm McDermott when he had cheated on Ginny in his sixth year, her fifth. Ginny had told Harry she wasn't all too fazed because she was planning on dumping him that day, but Fred and George were deaf to her expressions of carefree apathy.

Let's just say that when Malcolm had received an OWL that contained a box of chocolates and a note mysteriously marked, "Your Secret Admirer," the poor fool should have set it on fire.

Harry had never seen a guy cry about going bald, but maybe the fact that it had caused his brown locks to fall into his potion and explode, could have had something to do with it. And of course, the fact Snape had given him a detention and all the Slytherins wouldn't stop calling him 'Baldy' for the rest of term.

So anyone could see why Ron, though infamous for his short temper, and Hermione would be the only practical advisors.

"How's Ginny been? I mean, how has she been since I was gone?"

Hermione bit her lip and Ron's tempestuous disposition quickly turned to hesitation.

"She's been all right, I guess. I mean she was absolutely heartbroken when you disappeared. But she had faith, you know? She was the only one of us that refused to give up hope," Hermione informed, choosing her words carefully.

Harry smiled at that.

"Has she well….It's a stupid question, I know, but did she date anyone else while I was gone?" he wondered, almost expecting the worst.

Hermione looked at Ron and he furrowed his brow.

"Well, I don't know if she told you but she's get-"

Hermione stomped on Ron's foot, who in turn, yelped out in pain. She turned to Harry and folded her hands across the table, smiling sweetly at him.

"She's getting a dog, that's it," the witch interrupted, a little too quickly.

Ron muttered something under his breath and scowled at Hermione.

"Why'd you go and stomp on my bloody foot?"

Hermione's smile turned to a tight grimace.

"Muscle spasm," she crisply explained.

Ron let out a huff of frustration.

"But all I was going to say-"

"Dear Ronald, you really _are_ clueless when it comes to certain situations, aren't you?" she dryly observed, overlapping his voice.

Harry had been silent during this verbal parade and was equally as clueless and confused as Ron. He wasn't a total fool. He knew Hermione kept interrupting Ron because there was some big secret she didn't want him to know.

But whatever this secret was, he had no idea whatsoever what it was about. It had to do with Ginny; that was for certain. But whatever this news was, positive or negative, Harry was having a difficult time thinking it up. He was somewhat annoyed that his two best friends were mute to this these tidings but didn't want to push the issue.

He figured if it had to do with Ginny, she would tell him herself.

"Wait, so Ginny hasn't been seeing anyone? Because well…don't tell anyone yet, though I'm sure it's not a big shock, but I was planning on proposing to Ginny sometime next week," Harry eagerly revealed.

Hermione's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. She mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like, "Oh no!" though he couldn't figure out why his revelation would be something to fear.

Ron's face etiolated a bit though he gave a glimmer of a grin.

"Call me crazy, but for some reason, I think she'll yes. You're a great guy, Harry. I can't imagine her with anyone better."

Harry grinned at his friend, happy at his seal of approval.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Don't mention it," he replied.

And then suddenly, as though a light had been flipped on, his face twisted into bewilderment.

"Wait a minute, isn't Ginny getting-"

This discovery was cut short, as Hermione stomped on Ron's foot once more.

"**OW!** Bloody _hell_, Mione!"

Harry chuckled, though confused at Hermione's very odd mannerisms.

Hermione unfolded her napkin and daintily placed it on her lap, completely ignoring Ron and the mile a minute curses flying out of his mouth.

With a frown, she announced, "Food's here."

Harry shook his head at Hermione, thousands of unanswered questions whirling through his mind. Why in the world was she acting so strange all of a sudden? Had he said something wrong? He definitely had the feeling that she was attempting to hide something from him, but he hadn't any clues as to what. Besides, he had just gotten home. He didn't feel like getting into an argument over something silly at the moment. Whatever it was, it wasn't important enough to spoil his blissful mood.

As the waiter placed his order in front of him, he decided to mull it over later. He had other things on his mind, such as Ginny saying yes to his proposal, then to worry and analyze the bizarre behavior of Hermione.

* * *

Harry was enjoying a rather refreshing sleep, when a tumultuous and obnoxious _"POP"_ awaked him.

Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw a guilt-ridden Ginny Weasley standing at the foot of his bed. Though he never minded Ginny aparating to his flat at random hours of the day, he found it quite an inconvenience when the random hour happened to be eight AM.

Harry had spent the rest of the night hanging out with Ron and Hermione. It felt like eons since he'd seen them. They had so much to talk about and so much fun relieving old memories, so it was a surprise to all three of them when the clock in the hall had chimed one AM.

Harry let out a frustrated groan and forced himself upright, heavily leaning against the headboard. He figured his hair was flying all over the place and lazily reached up to check. Sure enough, his jet-black hair had transformed into a jungle. His glasses were located on the right nightstand but he didn't bother to grab for them yet.

It was way too early and he was way too tired. Squinting a bit, his weary eyes were able to focus in on a blurry outline of the girl, her flaming red hair standing out like a hot pink sports car in a parking garage of used station wagons.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Ginny wondered, shifting from foot to foot.

Harry chuckled. If he were awake enough, he would have rolled his eyes.

"No, I was just enjoying a riveting game of water polo," he informed, a bit more sarcastic than he had intended.

But Ginny laughed, though it sounded forced and uneasy, and then took a seat on the very edge of his bed.

"Look, there was something on my mind last night. I could barely sleep. I was going to wait until about ten or eleven but my nerves got the best of me."

Harry sighed, and then reached for his glasses.

"What's been eating you, then?" he wondered, adjusting the round frames.

She stared at him, twisting a lock of hair around her index finger. It was a trait she'd acquired through bad habit. Whenever she was nervous, she started wrapping a chunk of hair around her finger. She'd once told him that she wanted to break this cycle, but for some reason, he'd admitted that he found it endearingly quirky. And as his eyes traveled from that lock of hair back to her apprehensive face, he couldn't help but think that he wouldn't be able to deal if her heart didn't belong to him.

It seemed as though he knew just about everything about Ginny Weasley, that is, everything a guy needed to know that would result in falling head over heels for her. All these characteristics were things he held close to his heart and all these things were what he had remembered when he couldn't remember _anything_ at all.

When he'd had amnesia, he couldn't recall her name or identity, only flashes of fiery hair dancing in summer wind, or wrapped around a finger while she laughed. It never failed to strengthen his fortitude. He knew that he had to get home to her, whoever she was.

"I…Harry, please promise me you won't hate me after I tell you this," she fiercely demanded, worry filling her eyes.

Harry elevated and eyebrow, his mind preparing for the worst, though his heart was at ease.

"I could never hate you, Gin. You know that."

She let out a sigh of relief, though her shoulders slumped forward.

"You have to understand, when I convinced myself you had died, a part of _me_ died," she softly confessed, her gaze tearing away from his and to the window.

As the years went by, Ginny had grown with an extremely strong-will and independent spirit. She didn't want to be known as **just** another Weasley. And she sure as hell didn't want people, especially her parents, treating her like a five year old, incapable of taking responsibility and handling her own actions.

At times, she could be as stubborn as Ron and Harry found this alluring. Back in first and second year, she'd been so terribly shy around him that he would never have suspected even considering her as more than Ron's little sister. Sure, he figured she was nice and all that jazz, but he never really got to _know_ that side of her.

But once his fifth year rolled around, he could tell Ginny had changed. Or rather, as Hermione had said, she'd "given up" on him. Maybe this had allowed Ginny not to feel pressured to impress Harry. Whatever it was, the more he hung around her, the better friends they became.

All in all, Ginny had always seemed vibrant and sassy, full of inner strength and able to hold her own. But now, the look in her eyes seemed like it was all falling apart. Harry had never seen Ginny lose control this way, a way in which all her emotions were running haywire and her guilt ate away her conscience.

"I know Gin, I know. I thought I'd never see you again. Do you know how many times I looked up at the stars at night, your face haunting me, your face without a name? I'd forgotten who you were at that point and a part of me had died as well."

He didn't know why he was suddenly confessing this so early in the morning but he felt that Ginny needed to hear it, as a reassurance of some sort.

Ginny looked back at Harry, her wide eyes now emotionless. She'd always been good at bottling her feelings when she didn't want people to worry about her. It was a skill that Harry sometimes used to his advantage as well.

"And that's exactly why what I'm about to say is so horrible," she quietly answered.

Harry wished he could fast-forward the moment, so he wouldn't have to hear it.

"Just say it. You'll feel better after you're done," he gravely persisted.

Ginny shook her head.

"No, I'll feel worse."

Harry sighed, suddenly feeling lost and out of place. He'd expected to come home and have the girl of his dreams back in his arms. But instead, **she was dancing around secrets, recoiling away from him. **The morning was quickly turning tainted, something a kiss and hug wouldn't mend.

"Ginny, whatever it is, just say it. It's probably even not that bad compared to some of the things I've heard. I mean, you're talking to me, remember? Trouble seems to always follow me," he regretfully reminded, muttering the last sentence.

She offered him a ghost of smile, the kind she always used when she was holding back tears, the rare kind she only used when inside, she was crumbling to pieces. Harry had seen it only once and it had been before he'd left for the war. She'd tried so hard not to break down, that when she'd smiled it broke his heart even _more_ than the stray tear lingering in the corner of her eye.

"Harry…I'm not…I'm not sure I can marry you."

Harry gazed at Ginny in shock.

"What? How do you even know I was going to propose?"

She looked down for a moment, her eyes intently studying the dark blue bed sheets.

"Ron and Mione told me. Now, don't get mad. I kind of figured it out way before and by myself, anyway."

Harry didn't care that Ron and Hermione had told them. What he did care about was her original statement.

"_Harry, I'm not sure I can marry you." _

It was just his luck that bright and early in the morning, he had to deal with a marriage rejection. His eyes flashed with hurt, a tinge of anger and drear. He was Harry **Bloody** Potter and of course, everything ungodly and horrible just had to happen to him.

"Ginny…what do you mean you can't marry me? It's always been you and me, you know? Ever since the end of my sixth year. I don't…I don't understand."

Ginny nodded, scooting closer to Harry and now her entire body halfway on the bed.

"Harry, I wish I could lie to you and say everything stayed the same since you left. I wish I could pick up right where we left off or even start all over again. That summer was **amazing**…and I couldn't bear to leave you. But right now, I don't think it's such a good time for you and me to get married."

Harry shook his head, totally disgusted by his own confusion.

"Ginny, you're not making any sense. You say that summer was amazing. You say you missed me. But you can't marry me? How does that all add up correctly?" he half shouted.

Ginny didn't respond and decided to lie next to Harry, resting her head on his bare shoulder. She'd intended to stop by and tell Harry she was getting married to Dean but it hadn't worked out that way.

Hermione had OWLED Ginny about Harry's plans of proposal very late last night. So late in fact, it was technically morning. The older witch had highly advised Ginny to break the news to Harry before anything went any farther.

"_There's no use leading him on, Gin," Hermione had stated. _

Ginny knew that Hermione was absolutely right. It was best to tell Harry as soon as possible, instead of waiting around and baiting his interest. But the sight of his disheveled morning bed-head look and the fact that her heart skipped a beat only made the news harder to announce. The words were on the tip of her tongue but they wouldn't come out.

She felt his arm wrap around her waist and she inched closer to him. This was wrong…laying next to him and acting as though she were still in love with him…she wasn't was she? She couldn't be…**she couldn't.**

She slowly looked up at him with curiosity and he did something he'd only done once; place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I think I'm getting déjà vu," he whispered, with amusement.

"Harry…"

His eyes were such a brilliant shade of jade…enchanting as the owner of them.

"Ginny, if you think I stopped loving you, I didn't. I haven't. My feelings for you haven't changed," he lightly professed.

Ginny inwardly let out a wail of protest. Could this be any harder? He was supposed to be able to move on. He was supposed to have forgotten about her. She jokingly toyed with the idea of using a Time-Turner and warning her past self not to accept Dean's proposal.

If only things were that easy…but things happened for a reason and going back and changing it wasn't the solution.

"You're making this harder than it is," she acridly noted.

He was silent, though still gazing down at her. He'd always been taller than her…though not as tall as Ron. He'd always made her feel safe when he held her and despite the fact Ginny greatly objected to someone taking care of her, with Harry, she wanted him to look after her.

"Then don't do it."

"Don't ruin it, Harry," she quietly advised.

He shook his head, his eyes locked to hers. She couldn't escape him as much as she wanted to. His fingers lightly pressed into her hips and she found herself leaning into his grasp rather than pulling away.

He'd always been irresistible. He'd always been that one guy, always out of reach. He'd always been someone she'd placed on a pedestal and as much as she wanted to grow out of her infatuation, never grew apart from.

And now here he was, sitting in his bed, looking even more tempting than he'd **ever** been and she was going to have to get up and walk away from everything they had built, including that one amazing summer and all those memories of romance, because she'd promised her heart to another.

Ginny had always thought she possessed a lot of willpower, but as the boy with the messy hair and the stunning eyes gazed down at her, **she was stranded in the storm. **

Silently, Harry reached out and tilted her head upward, tenderly cupping her cheek with his hand. She felt herself inhale deeply and she closed her eyes, his lips finding hers.

It was a soft kiss, passionate although not aggressive. It was a kiss of question, a kiss in attempts to make things better, a kiss in hopes of forgetting about the situation at hand and divulging into the abandonment of reality. It was a kiss he'd long been awaiting and a kiss she'd long been dreading.

**As his lips molded into hers, he knew that he needed her more than ever. And as her lips melted into his, she knew that it now it would be even harder to let go.** Because she loved Dean, right? She loved Dean Thomas with his tall, dark and handsome good looks and his selflessness and his flair for romance.

She loved Dean with the funny laugh and the wit and the charm and the way he always wanted to put his coat over the puddles to make sure she didn't get wet.

But here was Harry, with the boyish smile but the solemn eyes and that charm all of his own and that bravery and sincerity…what was a girl to do?

It was first love versus commitment, battling head to head.

Ginny quickly pulled away and scrambled from the door. She was ashamed that she hadn't possessed more self-control and harbored guilt her intentions of explanation had ended in hastily locked lips.

"Merlin, I have to go. I can't….I have to go."

And with a loud POP, she had vanished.

Harry stared at the space where she'd once been in utter wonder, attempting to figure out what had just happened, swept away in a daze.


	8. so lucky, so strong, so proud?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

A/N: Just realized I haven't updated this story in QUITE some time. So I thought it'd be a good idea if I uploaded a new chapter. Haha. Thanks as usual, for all the loyal and kind reviewers; I really appreciate your encouragement and the simple fact that you have taken your time to actually sit down and read this garbage. Haha.

_With much love,_

_Gene_

* * *

Ginny Weasley was running in circles. Not literally of course but figuratively. The accidental kiss with Harry had left her stomach in knots, her heart blanketed in a cloud of confusion and her head hazy and in a state of vertigo. She'd gone back to The Burrow after visiting Harry's and clobbered straight up the stairs and to her old bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Luckily, the only person home was her Mother, which proved to be an asset. Mrs. Weasley knew Ginny well enough to know that a slamming door usually meant _A)_ No, she didn't want to talk about it and _B)_ She would need some time to herself.

Ginny flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all of life's answers. Folding her arms over her chest, she let out a huge sigh. Since when did things get so complicated? Oh wait, that's right, when Harry decided to collapse into a heap on her doorstep.

She wasn't sure if she should tell Dean. They were all adults, now. It wasn't like Harry and she couldn't work this out like two mature, responsible grown-ups. Besides, informing Dean would only be total marriage suicide. Who in their right mind would tell their soon-to-be husband that they accidentally kissed another guy, when it didn't mean anything? Telling Dean would indicate that Ginny had returned those feelings when in reality, all she felt for Harry was friendship.

Yes, that was it. Simply and purely friendship. What they shared had been wonderful but it was over now. She had moved on. There was no sense in treading _backwards_ when she needed to be moving forward.

She let herself smirk. It wasn't even _that_ good of a kiss. It probably would rate a mere 2.5 on the kissing scale. No, not even that much! She definitely was being too generous. She let her mind wander back to the event and immediately frowned. Who was she **kidding**? It was sensational. She was a little surprised that Harry could still have that affect on her…the whole "weak in the knees" thing.

But that didn't mean **she** had felt any genuine emotion, right? Sure, the kiss had left her a little woozy but that didn't mean she, herself had romantic feelings for Harry, right? It was the technique of the kiss that had caused the butterflies, not because of the piercing way he was looking at her…or the fact his hair just wouldn't stay…. Or the way…

Ginny shook her head. Grabbing a nearby pillow, she thrust it over her face and let out a frustrated scream.

* * *

Ron and Hermione, minus Harry, were hanging around the flat and eating breakfast when Hermione let out yet another sigh, for about the sixth time that morning. Ron, who was scanning _The Daily Prophet_, let out a groan. Flinging the paper on the table and narrowly missing his bagel with cream cheese, he sternly gazed at Hermione.

"All right, what's wrong?" he demanded.

Hermione swallowed her chunk of pancake and stared back at Ron with false bewilderment.

"What do you mean, dear?"

Ron rolled his eyes and threw her a sarcastic grin.

"You've been sighing all morning. And I know, _dear_, that when you keep huffing and puffing like that, it's because you want to talk to me about something **but** you want me to be all concerned and ask first," he smartly scoffed.

Hermione shrugged, taking another bite of her strawberry pancake.

"It's just that…I'm worried about Harry."

Ron chuckled.

"You're **always** worried about Harry. You've been worried about Harry since the day he set foot in Hogwarts. He's nearly twenty-four, Hermione. I think he can take care of himself."

Hermione frowned.

"Yes, I **know** that Ron. But do you always have to be so clueless? Were you listening last night at Nicholas Nickleby's? Harry wants to propose to Ginny!"

Ron's expression relaxed and he waved it away, as though the problem were an annoying fly.

"Oh, right, that. I'm glad Harry wants to propose to Ginny. I'd rather have my best mate marry my sister than anyone else."

Hermione let out a groan.

"RONALD WEASLEY! Where in Merlin's name have you been these last few months? Ginny's getting married to Dean in less than a week, you daft wanker! How can Harry propose to Ginny if she's already engaged!" she screeched.

The light finally turned on in Ron's head and his eyes widened.

"Bugger, I really **am** dense sometimes. I was so happy that Harry was home, I forgot all about Ginny's wedding! What are we going to do Hermione?" he wondered, panic in his tone.

Hermione let out another sigh, resting her chin in her hand. She knew that Harry still loved Ginny and it would just crush him if he discovered she was getting married. She knew that Ginny was the drive that had kept him determined to get home; Harry was a little clueless as to why the red head was behaving less as to what he expected.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure Ginny was still in love with Harry but had a hunch that Ginny had never fully gotten over her first love. It was all a big mess, no doubt the cause of imperfect timing. If only he had returned home sooner…

For once, the smartest witch didn't have all the answers.

"To tell you the truth, I don't have any idea," Hermione regretfully informed.

Ron's ears turned red with annoyance.

"But-but…you **always** have all the answers. You have to think of something. You know and **I** know that if Ginny walks down that aisle, she's going to be making the biggest mistake of her life!"

Hermione scowled, took her chin out of her hand and stiffly straightened up in her seat.

"Look, Ron. As much as I think Ginny and Harry **should **be together, this is between your sister and Harry. Ginny has to make the choice not us. It's her life. We can give her as much of our opinion as we want, but in the end, it's her choice as to who she wants to marry," she crisply argued.

Ron nodded, though it was clear he wasn't satisfied with Hermione's philosophy.

"But we can give her a nudge in the right direction, can't we? I mean, a really **big** nudge, right? C'mon Mione, you honestly can't sit there and tell me you're going to stand back and do absolutely nothing."

Hermione paused for a moment. She was against stepping into Ginny's business but Harry was her best friend. She couldn't sit back and let him lose the best thing that had ever happened to him. Besides, Ginny was family now. And before that, she'd been a friend. Could she really tolerate watching her sister-in-law **and **best male mate fumble blindly in the dark?

But then again, Ginny really did seem to be smitten with Dean. Hermione was fairly skilled at reading people and she could tell that Ginny had grown to love Dean. However, she wasn't sure was if Ginny's love for Dean was stronger and bigger than her old love for Harry. And this was precisely why Hermione refused to intervene.

Playing Cupid was never her area of favor or expertise. She believed that if it were meant to be, it would find a way to happen. Only Ginny knew what her heart said and no one could decide this for her, not even her parents.

"Ron, I see your point, I really do. But I really think that Ginny should make the decision by herself. I don't think playing Cupid is the wisest idea right now. Especially if **you** are involved," she defended, with a teasing smirk.

The tip of Ron's ears transformed an even brighter shade of red and he spat out a sardonic string of laughter.

"Hermione, stop thinking like a genius and start thinking from Harry's shoes. He's head over heels for her and if he even finds out that Ginny's getting married, it'll destroy him. Think about it, would **you** want to come home after a year of amnesia to discover I was marrying some girl?" he shot back, rising an eyebrow.

Hermione slapped a hand against the table, causing the plates to jump a few centimeters.

"Bloody hell, Ron! I know all this! Of **course** if it were me, I wouldn't want you going off with some other girl. But that's just the point, this isn't about you and me, it's about _Harry and Ginny._ As much as you think we're involved in this, we aren't. We're just innocent bystanders."

Ron was silent for a moment, then broke out into a grin.

"You know, I think that's the fifth time in your life I've heard you swear."

"Ron!" Hermione fumed.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know. I guess you have a point. Harry doesn't know about the wedding yet, right?"

Hermione shook her head, regaining composure.

"No, unfortunately or fortunately, whichever way you look at it. But he's got to know as soon as possible."

"You think Ginny told him already?" Ron wondered with curiosity.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Well, judging from last night, no. But I OWLED her this morning and told her what he said at dinner; the proposal and everything. I hinted that now was a good time to let him know about Dean. I hope she told him. If not, we just might have to step in," she predicted.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean, is that if Ginny doesn't tell him today, **we'll** have to let him know. Can't you just imagine his face at the wedding, if he didn't know before hand? It would be awful. The sooner he knows the better. If your sister doesn't tell him then someone better. And that's where we come in," Hermione explained.

Ron exhaled deeply, amazed at his wife's "take-charge" attitude and feeling sorry for his friend. Picking up the paper once more, he began reading the sports section, though his interest had wavered since the beginning of their discussion.

"I guess Operation _When Harry Met Ginny _is underway," he joked, in hopes of lightening the mood.

Hermione rolled her eyes and ate another portion of her food.

"Oh, Ron," she jokingly scolded.

But in fact, she was glad for Ron's teasing mood because she really didn't want to think too much about the upcoming disaster at hand.

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Harry was walking around Hogsmeade, alone and though a little peeved at Ginny's quick departure that morning, mainly content. Word had gotten around that he was in fact **alive** and not dead via press such as _The Daily Prophet_ and official release statements from the Ministry. Harry was grateful, because people smiled and sometimes waved, instead of issuing him that surprised look of disbelief and fear, as when he first came home.

Many of the papers had wanted interviews, but the only one he had issued so far was with _The Quibbler_, a magazine run by one of his peers from Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood. It had been about three days since Harry had arrived home and though he was in a state of bliss, something was nagging at him.

He didn't mean to keep dwelling on the subject, but he had a strong feeling that Ginny was hiding something from him. And whatever it was, it wasn't good in the least. He frowned to himself, the shops blending into one another. It was pestering him beyond belief that Ginny felt the need to keep secrets from him.

True, he trusted that whatever it was, maybe it was best if he didn't know and therefore had faith in Ginny's judgement. But what he didn't understand was why she was contradicting herself. She said she couldn't marry him, yet she gushed that she missed him. She acted like she had gotten over him, yet she kissed him.

Or had he kissed her and she had kissed him back? Whatever the circumstances had been, it still was a kiss by any standards. Harry gazed up and saw he had walked right past Olivander's. A nostalgic smile was embedded on his lips, as a memory of an eleven-year-old wizard going through a "wand fitting," popped up.

It had seemed so long ago that he'd just received his admission to Hogwarts letter. So long ago had it appeared that he wasn't anything out of the ordinary and the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead was a reminder of the "car crash" he'd survived. Back then, the world of wizards and witches had only been stories upon weathered pages in the thick books of his favorite fantasies. And now…he was probably the most famous wizard in his world, excluding people like Headmaster Dumbledore, of course.

His smile faltered a bit. If only his parents had been around to watch him grow up…

Remorse crossed his features for a moment and then it passed. He would always love and remember his parents but he couldn't let his regret and grief concerning their deaths run his life.

Suddenly in the mood for a huge slab of chocolate, Harry began to head to Honeydukes, when someone caught his eye. About a few yards away, across the street, were Ginny and Dean Thomas. Harry had troubled recognizing Dean at first, but once he really thought about it, the name came to him. Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched as the pair came out of Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue. This struck Harry was peculiar, because the shop was a bridal boutique.

_Why would Ginny and Dean be together in a bridal shop, of all places? _Harry wondered.

He observed as Ginny stopped, said something to Dean he couldn't make-out then leaned on her tiptoes to place a hasty kiss on his lips. Harry felt an unknown force send a swift kick to his gut. Feeling a bit guilty for spying on them but still curious, he ducked in alleyway out of their view.

Trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, he saw Dean laugh then bend down to kiss Ginny. Harry narrowed his eyes as he saw Dean hand Ginny a white veil, then apparate away. Ginny remained in her place, her eyes still glued to the spot where Dean had been, as though in a trance. She then looked down at her hand and Harry winced, as though he'd been struck. Though Harry was a distance away, it was unmistakable what was on her ring finger.

It was a sparkling, gorgeous diamond **engagement** ring.

Harry felt queasy as he watched Ginny sigh, then briskly stroll down the street in the opposite direction. Leaning against the wall for support, he felt his chest constrict with dread and disappointment. So that was why Ginny was acting so weird around him. That was why she had said she couldn't marry him.

Because she was already getting married!

You're such an **IDIOT**, Harry! The answer was right in front of your face and you were too caught up in yourself to notice.

Harry stood there in shock, hurt churning into regret. He took off his glasses for a moment, rubbed his eyes and then shoved them back in place. If only he had made it home sooner…then maybe Ginny would be marrying him instead of Dean. Regret soon turned into anger. Ginny had told him she loved him! If she loved him why had she gone and gotten engaged to Dean? And then his flash of rage turned to hurt once more.

He was still in love with a girl that **didn't** love him anymore. He didn't know how easily Ginny had gotten over him, but he knew it would take plenty of time to get over her. Harry had truly fallen in love that summer and he'd cherished every moment of it. He couldn't picture himself with anyone else. And now that Ginny was with Dean, it appeared as though this unthinkable future was becoming a reality.

How could she…?

He had lost her…. He had lost her and there was practically nothing he could do about it. All he had were the memories…. Sweet memories of fiery red hair enveloping him like a curtain and dancing in the summer wind.

"Screw chocolate," Harry bitterly muttered to himself.

Storming past Honeydukes in a blaze of rage and anguish, Harry barreled into the nearest pub and ordered the tallest glass of Fire Whiskey.


	9. may angels lead you in

Disclaimer: Sadly, I'm just a broke high school student with too much time on her hands.

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A/N: Hope everything is going well for all of you out there in reader land. Sorry the updates for this are so slow. I've got a lot of stuff going on right now and it's quite hard to sit down and have actual time to update anything. My biggest apologies!

Xoxo

_gene_

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It was pretty safe to say that at half past eleven PM, Harry Potter was way past the stage of tipsy and into full-blown drunkenness. He was unable to stand up straight, each step was a near stumble to the concrete, and he was unable to speak without inserting a huge slur.

For the most part, despite the fact Harry rarely touched alcohol; he could hold his liquor relatively well. But he'd lost track of how many shots he'd had and that's when things got fuzzy. Somewhere in the sober part of his mind, Harry knew that drinking wouldn't solve any of his problems. He would wake up with a terrible headache and Ginny would still be engaged. Nothing would have changed. Well, except for the splitting headache part.

But despite this, Harry drank so much that for the first time in his life, he was kicked out of a pub for disorderly conduct and obnoxious demeanor. Amazing, really, that The Boy Who Lived would be thrown out of a bar because he'd had a little too much alcohol. Was it really his fault that the clumsy drunk next to him had nearly spilt beer all over his shirt? Then again, at that point, Harry was no better than the drunken stranger, either.

Luckily, no one he knew had been present. He could have sworn he saw one of the Weasley twins, Fred or George _(or maybe it was both),_ but didn't bother following through with his inference.

As he scowled at the closed door of The Leaky Cauldron, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began aimlessly walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, completely oblivious to anyone in his way. He'd intended to drink a bit to forget about Ginny for awhile. But it didn't get him anywhere. She seemed to be the only thing on his mind now…haunting him…memories of the past lingering too close for comfort.

When people drank, some turned into raving lunatics. It brought out a violent streak a mile wide. When other people drank, they got noisy and obnoxious, laughing at everything and anything that sounded remotely like modern English. When some people drank, they retreated into a shell, quiet and appearing depressed, as though all the energy were drained out of them.

Harry discovered he was more so the last one. Maybe it was because he had already been in a terrible mood but he didn't feel like laughing or smiling at all. His heart ached and his head hurt and all he wanted to do was successfully pretend for a moment that the girl **he** was supposed to marry _wasn't_ going to be walking down the aisle with Dean Thomas.

He thought about popping over to Ron and Hermione's but then thought better of it. He really didn't feel like listening to Hermione lecture, no matter how right she was, or witness a temper tantrum from Ron. All he wanted to do was lie down, maybe have another drink and then drown in extremely melancholy muggle _"emo"_ music. Squinting his eyes to focus, he fumbled in his pocket for his wand. A few minutes later, he had apparated to his flat.

He muttered a spell and with the tap of his wand, the lights flickered on. The house was quiet and still, to the benefit of Harry. He dragged his feet to the kitchen and got out a bottle of water. Taking a few sips, he shoved it on the counter, nearly spilling the bottle's contents. He shrugged and figured he'd clean it up later, when he wasn't tripping over his own two feet. There probably was some spell to help with those whole "morning-after" side affects but Harry didn't feel like looking it up. What difference would it make anyway?

**His life had been flipped upside down.**

Clutching onto the wall for support, he struggled into his bedroom and threw himself onto the cool, soft mattress. When did things get so complicated? Oh wait…when he had discovered Ginny was getting married…that's when.

In a way, he felt somewhat guilty for her actions. What if he had written her, telling her that he was indeed alive and well? What if he had gotten home sooner…would she still be engaged to Dean? He groaned, as the light blinded his eyes and sent a shooting pain between his temples. The combination of harsh florescent light and over thinking was too much to bear.

"Bloody hell…I'm not drunk enough for a friendly game of 'What If'," Harry mumbled to himself.

He pointed his wand at his Sony stereo system. To his relief, the sounds of "Konstantine" by Something Corporate flooded through the speakers. There was nothing better than some depressing music for a depressed drunk.

He frowned…Should he give up on Ginny once and for all? She still must have **some** sort of feelings for him…even if they were diminishing by the second. It just couldn't be over for good.

All of a sudden, a loud "POP" caught his attention. It sounded muffled, as though it were right in that very room but in a distance. But this could be because his face was stuffed into the sheets and the pillows were cascading over his head.

"Harry? You all right?" a female voice wondered.

With much effort and stamina, Harry rolled over to his left side and was meet with **three** images of a blurry Ginny Weasley! Harry lazily took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then placed the spectacles back on. The three blended into one and he sighed, wondering why of all people, she had to be there.

"Ginny…whadda want?"

Ginny looked as though she'd just witnessed someone getting hit by a double decker bus. Though she wasn't horrified by his display of intoxication, she definitely was worried and…was that a hint of guilt he detected on her face? Harry didn't bother trying to figure it out. She could be consumed with guilt, for all he cared. It wouldn't change anything.

She hesitantly approached the bed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" she flatly observed.

Harry chuckled, though it was hollow and sarcastic. He remained in his set position, eyeing her warily.

"Really? How'd you know?" he sardonically snapped.

He wasn't in the mood for someone to criticize him, even if it was Ginny.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, as though bothered by a colossal headache.

"Harry, did you do this because of what I said, earlier? That I can't marry you? Is that it? Because believe me, it was an awful thing to say but I just **had** to. You were going to propose and I had to let you know before…anything happened."

She loomed over him, a shadow blocking the light. The words went in one ear and out the other. Harry wasn't fully paying attention to her, though he had heard everything she'd said.

"Gin, could ya please speak a little softer? You're yelling," Harry croaked out, slurring the words.

Ginny scowled, placing her hands on her hips.

"Harry, honestly. Did you even listen to a word I said? I'm sorry, you know. But what else was I supposed to do? Let you propose and break your heart when I rejected?" she persisted with annoyance.

At this curt statement, especially the sentence about breaking his heart, Harry suddenly gained newfound energy. Or maybe it was the fact that an adrenaline rush mixed with too much Fire Whiskey caused a weird chemical reaction.

Whatever it was, Ginny jumped back a bit as Harry sprang to his feet, towering over her. She wasn't afraid, though very surprised and studied him with caution.

"Oh, so now you think you were doing me a _favor_? You think that by contradicting yourself it's saving me the heartache? Well, news flash, **Ginny**, you're breaking my heart by just standing there," he spat out, with malevolence.

Ginny glared up at him, having no tolerance to fight with a drunken Harry, but willing to engage in the action if it were the only way to get through to him. Fred and George had mentioned to Ron that they'd seen Harry at the Leaky Cauldron, guzzling drink after drink like a sponge.

The two twins had taken a lunch break from working at their joke shop and were surprised to find The Boy Who Lived in a tipsy state. Ron, of course, had mentioned this to Hermione and Hermione had gotten it to Ginny. Ginny was worried that Harry had gotten drunk because of their conversation earlier that day and as soon as she was free, had rushed over to Harry's place.

But the tone of his voice stung and she found her outer vigor a mockery of her crumbling inner strength. She'd never meant to hurt him…God no, that never was her intention. Things had just sort of…happened so quickly that she'd been forced to deal with the situation before she really knew what was going on.

"No, I didn't think I was doing you a favor, Harry. I was thinking in **your** best interest. Think about it, would you have really wanted to propose and then have me say no? Isn't it better that I told you sooner?"

His eyes flashed with frustration and indignation.

"You sure as hell changed your mind about that, when you kissed me," he seethed.

Ginny's mouth fell open in shock.

"I kissed **you?** I think it's the other way around!" she shot back.

She wasn't sure if this was entirely true, but didn't care.

"Who the bleeding hell cares who kissed who! The point of the matter is that we _did_kiss and it **did** happen, all right? And you can't tell me you didn't feel anything because that's a total lie," Harry growled.

"Yeah, ok, we kissed. So what? How do you know what was going through my mind at that moment? The kiss was a mistake, Harry, a mistake. I'm sorry if I led you on but you have to understand…I waited so long for you to come home. I never gave up hope. But I realized I had to move on. I couldn't let my life pass me by," she answered, her voice growing softer.

This only spurred on Harry's anger.

"Oh, so you just gave up, is that it? You just decided I was a lost cause, huh?"

Harry knew he was totally missing the point of Ginny's confession but he didn't care one bit. He was too enraged.

"I waited for you for a YEAR and a half, Harry! I couldn't wait **forever!**" Ginny yelled.

Harry sneered at her.

"Well, it sure didn't take you long to get over me, since you're getting married to our good old pal, Dean Thomas."

Ginny's face went from red with anger to pale with shock. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"How'd you find out about that?"

"What, think you could keep it from me, could you? Thought that I was too dumb to figure it all out? I was in Hogsmeade, today. I saw you and Dean come out of that bridal shop. I **saw** the fucking ring on your hand, Ginny. You can't make up any excuses now!"

Ginny resisted the urge to break down into tears. She felt completely horrible. It was as though everything and anything that could go wrong, **was** going wrong.

"Harry-I meant to tell you…I really did. But you had just gotten home and everything and I didn't want-"

"Oh save it, Ginny! You only thought about saving your own skin. Admit it; you didn't give a **damn** about what I'd think. You wanted to make sure your perfect wedding would be God damn perfect. My homecoming was an inconvenience for you, wasn't it?" he heatedly hypothesized.

Ginny hastily wiped away a stray tear, her Weasley temper getting the best of her. Her face contorted from grief to rage all in a matter of seconds.

"How can you say that? It's **always** been you, you know that! You've always been a friend to me, first and for most. Why in the world would I forget that? I didn't want to tell you because I **knew** you were expecting me to be the girl you left behind. But I'm not, Harry."

"Things have changed, ok? You can't bloody **leave** me for nearly two years and then expect to pick up where we left off! It was utter hell for me, living without you! Don't you even care? Don't you even understand what it was like for me, clinging onto a hope that was breaking by the days?"

His sneer turned to a glare. It had been utter torture for him, as well. But that didn't mean he had decided to go out and marry someone else. He had thought if she loved him, she would hold on. Looks like dreams and hopes never worked out the way people wanted them to.

"So that means you can go and get married to someone else?" he inquired.

Ginny shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"It means that I couldn't keep holding on forever. How was I supposed to know you were alive? You never answered my letters…I wrote one nearly every day. You gave off the illusion that you were gone forever, Harry. What else was I supposed to believe?"

Harry was silent for a moment, pondering all of this.

"Why'd you come here tonight, Ginny? So you could make yourself feel better? Because it's only making me feel like shit. I know that you couldn't hold on forever…I didn't expect you to. But I thought you loved me and I thought that was enough, ok?" he hoarsely confessed.

Ginny grew soft at this, gazing up into his brilliant eyes that had lost their sparkle. He looked very tired all of a sudden, but not the kind of tired that comes from deprivation of sleep. It was the kind of wanted sleep that only a traveler from a distance land experienced, the kind of sleep that isn't cured by a nap or a night's rest.

It was the kind of necessary sleep that was from seeing too much destruction and not enough optimism. It was the kind of needed sleep that was from viewing too many starry nights and never a clear path home. **The kind of fatigue that seeped into your very bones and never went away. **

"Harry…I don't know what to say," she trailed off.

Harry's ruthless smirk returned as quick as a flash.

"Go **home**, Ginny. Go back to your perfect life with your dream wedding and your dream husband. You probably never loved me anyway, right? It was probably all one big sympathy act…one big act of pity. Oh look, there's Harry with no parents and a mean Aunt and Uncle and Voldemort after him. I feel bad for him! I guess I'll go out with him. He'll probably feel better. Said yes out of pity, right?" he viciously leered.

And without warning, Ginny's hand shot up and slapped Harry across the cheek. Though it stung, Harry was immune to it. He was too drunk and too angry to feel the pain. Ginny's eyes were wide with fury, her hand trembling. Her cheeks were flushed with a strawberry hue, her freckles standing out even more. Her lips were twisted into a frown, though she looked like she would burst out into tears any minute.

"I **never** want to hear you say that again. I **never** went out with you just because I felt bad. That thought never crossed my mind. I thought you only saw me as Ron's little sister. So I was _beyond_ happy when you asked me out, you see? If you're too blind to see that I was desperately in love with you, then I feel no regrets about slapping you," she slowly explained, her voice shaking.

By now all of Harry's energy had been zapped. All he wanted was for this argument to be over. He didn't even know why he'd gone off about Ginny feeling sorry for him. He had never thought that, anyway. That garbage had just popped into his head and spilled out of his mouth.

He didn't know why he kept hurting her with things he said but maybe it was because just by looking at her, she was hurting him. Now the tables, it seemed had turned. Harry had been the untouchable; the one guy Ginny had wanted but couldn't have. And now Harry was in that position. Ginny was the only woman he wanted…hell, **needed**, but she was unreachable.

It was very ironic.

"Ginny…"

He reached out for her hand and surprisingly, she didn't pull it away. Her other hand found the side of his cheek that she had slapped, gingerly running it over the spot.

"Oh, Harry. I didn't slap you too hard, did I?" she whispered.

He was unable to tear his eyes away from her. He was hypnotized. He shook his head, his eyes glued to her. He could remember the way she would laugh when he would try to tickle her…or the way she would playfully hit his shoulder when he'd tease her.

_It seemed so long ago…_

He put his other hand over her hand that was on his cheek, then slowly brought it down and wrapped his arms around her waist. What was going on? When did things go from a heated argument to some weird unrequited love scene? He was powerless over his emotions and dipped his lips to meet hers, capturing them in a lust-filled kiss.

She kissed him back, her hands wrapping around his neck, pulling his head closer and closing any space between them. His hand traveled down her back and she shivered. As if she'd come out of a coma and just realized what was going on, she forcefully pulled back.

Her expression was pained and he sighed. So this is how it would have to be. A kiss or two here…and nothing ever more.

She shook her head, her voice scratchy.

"Harry please…don't."

He put a finger to her lips. He was so tired of fighting.

"Do you still love me, Ginny?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.

She looked stricken with fear.

"Harry, I'm getting married in less than a week," she uneasily reminded.

He didn't even blink.

"That wasn't my question, Ginny."

"_This isn't our summer, anymore, Harry. I'm not sixteen anymore."_

He shrugged.

"What if…you weren't getting married. What if you didn't…love Dean? Would things be different? You do love Dean, don't you?" he quickly added, peering intensely at her.

**Do** I love Dean? Wait...what kind of question am I asking myself. Of course I love Dean. I wouldn't be marrying the bloke if I didn't love him. Right? Right?

Ginny's thoughts were in a tornado. She couldn't believe she was even thinking something like that. Of course she loved Dean…of course…but the answer seemed fuzzy, like an old record on a phonograph, the more she gazed into the depths of Harry's eyes.

Recollection of the past summer and other moments came back to her…messy hair and jade eyes and whispered promises and late night broom rides when no one was awake. For the first time since Harry had arrived, Ginny was seriously considering postponing, if not canceling, the wedding.

She was afraid to answer, as though if she said 'yes', this moment would all be a dream.

"Yes, of course I love Dean," she automatically replied.

"Well, if you didn't. Would things be different?"

She didn't have to give that one too much thought.

"Yes….I'd probably be still waiting around for you," she confessed with a sad smile.

He wanted to smile but he couldn't. The seriousness and disconsolation of the situation didn't allow smiles.

He leaned down and pressed his cheek to her, his lips close to her ear.

"Stay with me tonight," he begged.

"Harry, don't do this. You're drunk."

He pulled back, his lips brushing her cheek.

"Please. I'm not hinting at anything. I'm just saying to keep me company for a bit. Just like that night of my graduation, when you snuck up to the dorms. Please?" he pleaded.

She looked at him, then to his open bedroom door then back at him.

**And to his surprise, she agreed. **


	10. hear you me, my friends

A/N: Sorry this took such a long time to update! Things have been ccrrrazzzy as usual. Thank you for your support and your reviews! I appreciate it! And while you're waiting for the next update, go check out my original fic, _Anarchy In The UK_, at fictionpress! My pen name is cmonsweetcatastrophe. It's awfully lonely and could use some more reviews! Thanks a bunches guys!

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When Harry awoke, he was greeted with the face of Ginny Weasley, engaged in a peaceful slumber. A splitting headache immediately consumed his head and he let out a string of curses, mentally scolding himself to never drink again. He slowly eased himself into an upright position, his back depending heavily on the headboard behind him.

He was still dressed in his clothes from the previous night, along with Ginny. Though he had been beyond smashed, the events of last night were more so a tad fuzzy than completely annihilated. He didn't exactly remember everything he'd said, but he knew what had happened.

Much to his shock and delight, Ginny had stayed with him the entire night. They hadn't spoken much, just sat in silence, secretly enjoying each other's company. At first, she had given off the impression that she was ready to bolt any second. But after a coaxing from Harry that nothing would happen, she had curled right up next to him.

He had slung an arm around her shoulder and a few minutes later, her arm had crept right around his waist. He had wanted to talk to her about the wedding and past events, but the alcohol was taking its toll. Exhaustion was beginning to seep in and he had lightly rested his cheek on top of her head, her head resting on his shoulder.

They had kissed a few times as well, but much to Harry's regret; he had been the one who had terminated it before it could go any further. It had taken all of his willpower to cease the activity, considering the fact they had been much more than quick pecks on the lips. The fact that both of their shirts were sprawled across the floor was clear evidence.

But when it came down to it, Harry was a gentleman and couldn't bear to take advantage of the situation. It wasn't the right thing to do. He didn't even know why Ginny had agreed to stay the night but his gut feeling had told him that she was finally giving in.

All in all, it had been much like that night of graduation, with the exception he hadn't woken up to a cold and empty bed. He felt as though he was on the brink of a mess he couldn't escape; though he was preparing for the consequences he had to face. Being an Auror, Harry was trained for the worst case scenario. And because of his extensive training, he could a hunch that Ginny was slowly starting to realize that first loves were never really over.

Lying there with her, it had reminded him of a movie he'd seen. One of the characters had asked the girl a question like, "When two people love each but can't seem to get it together, when is enough, enough?"

The girl was speechless and voiced her lack of knowledge to this. The first character had simply replied, "The answer is never."

Harry had wondered if somehow, if it were possible, Ginny would call off the wedding. Granted, he would feel sorry for Dean but when it came down to it, when you found someone you so much cared about, you didn't dare let go. The day he would give up on Ginny was the day she said clearly and frankly, "I don't love you anymore."

Considering the fact she had never said those exact words, he was ready to gamble with his chances.

He looked down at her, his head still thundering, but felt his lips tug into a small smile. But then he remembered something that sent the smile crashing to the floor.

"Harry, I'm getting married in less than a week," she uneasily reminded.

"Bugger. What the hell am I going to do? You **really** got yourself into a mess this time, Potter," Harry acidly muttered to himself.

He knew that Ginny wasn't the type of girl to desert the groom at the altar. She was too nice for that. He also knew that when it came to her parents and spending money on her, she never could fully accept it, no matter how grateful she was. To cancel a wedding would mean an excessive amount of money gone down the drain. Harry felt guilty just thinking about it.

He ran a hand through his hair and studied Ginny once more. She was on her side, facing him, her finger still curled around his waist.

"Ginny," he murmured, giving her a quick shake.

She mumbled something that sounded like "Five more minutes, Mum," then rolled onto her other side and let out a snore. Harry sighed and eased himself from Ginny's grasp. He had to get some air and think about things. Harry knew that he sometimes could be irrational and let his emotions dominate his logic. Therefore, it was best if he took some time alone. He didn't want to make any stupid mistakes. Although, in a way, it had been a mistake even requesting Ginny stay over.

Harry waltzed over to his shirt and pulled it over his head. He threw his on shoes, and then went into the bathroom. He located a bottle of Advil and took two tablets, in hopes of calming his headache; found a comb to take care of the jungle on top of his head.

He went into the kitchen, grabbed an apple, then wrote a quick note to Ginny and posted it to the fridge. Making sure his wand was in his back pocket, he cast one last look at his open bedroom door, and then walked out the front door and onto the streets of wizard London.

The streets were packed, as always, despite the fact it was nine in the morning. He spotted a few of his favorite stores, but didn't bother to stop in. He had to get this sorted out, once and for all. He had no doubts that he was in love with Ginny but did that necessarily mean it would conquer all? Besides, she was getting married to Dean in less than a week.

Harry had no idea when the wedding exactly would take place but he was pretty sure it was sooner than he would like. Despite the fact that he wasn't the best of friends with Dean, that still gave him no right to ruin his wedding. But the idea of ruining his wedding wouldn't be a problem if Ginny weren't involved.

If only she would make up her mind! He frowned, his brow furrowed. He couldn't force Ginny to cancel the wedding, no matter how much he asked. Ginny was her own person; she could do as she pleased. And he would still feel sorry for Dean, either way.

If the wedding was canceled, he was positive Dean wouldn't be too pleased that Harry had stolen his girl. If it weren't canceled, he'd still feel guilty because Ginny had cheated on Dean for him. Also, Ginny seemed to be displaying second thoughts about going through with the wedding and her actual relationship with Dean.

Either way, it was a lose-lose situation.

But it wasn't like he had suddenly fallen in love with Ginny. They'd had something going on before, something that had never really ended. Ginny had never **really** ended things with Harry, just "given up hope" as she had stated a few times before.

"Bloody hell, this is worse than that whole episode with Krum and Ron at the Yule Ball," Harry mumbled to himself with sarcastic amusement.

He was taking his time walking; his mind cluttered when a familiar voice from behind caught his attention.

"Harry! Harry! Wait up, is that you?"

Harry wheeled around and was faced with the very pretty yet very shocked face of Cho Chang.


	11. on sleepless roads, the sleepless go

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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-A/N: Sorry this story took the back-burner. As always, thank you to my lovely reviewers! Without you, where would I be?

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As soon as Ginny's eyes fluttered open, she was struck with a wave of panic. She was sitting in Harry Potter's bed, in his flat, half-dressed and remembering all _too well_ the fiery make-out session they had condoned last night. She hadn't meant to kiss him back, but once they had started she couldn't stop. It was fortunate that Harry had stopped before they could get carried away, because Ginny had the sinking feeling she would have done a lot more of it weren't for his righteous chivalry.

She rolled over and noticed that she was by herself. This brought another wave of panic. Where had Harry gone? What if he had gone off to find Dean? Ginny had to chuckle at that. Why would Harry go running off to tell Dean? Sure, on occasion he let his emotions overrule his sensibility but Harry wasn't a dimwit.

She sighed and sat up, while rubbing her eyes. The clock on the wall read 9:30 AM. Ginny stumbled out of bed, thinking that maybe Harry was eating breakfast. She headed into the kitchen to discover a piece of lined paper taped to the door of the fridge.

* * *

_Gin,_

_I went out for a walk, to clear my head. I should be back in an hour or so if you need to talk or…something. There's cereal in the pantry and waffles in the freezer if you're hungry. _

_-Harry_

_P.S. I don't regret anything that happened last night, even if you do._

* * *

"Bugger. An hour?" Ginny muttered, in distress.

She really needed to talk to Harry. But seeing that Harry wasn't present at the moment, there was only one person she could think of that would be a good substitute. She shuffled into the living room and stuck her head in the small fireplace. Pretty soon, she was staring into the living room of the Granger/Weasley apartment. The apartment was still and Ginny wondered if anyone was home.

"Hermione? You there?" Ginny questioned, her voice a little below shouting.

The flat responded with silence.

"HERMIONE? HELLO?" Ginny called, growing impatient.

She heard the scrambling of feet and pretty soon, Hermione was crouched down, her face eye-level to Ginny's. It appeared as though Hermione had been up for sometime, considering the fact she was fully dressed and bright-eyed.

"Ginny? Is that you?" Hermione wondered in slight disbelief.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"**Of course** it's me, Mione," she confirmed with exasperation.

Hermione snickered.

"Then what are you doing in Harry's flat without a shirt on?"

Ginny glanced down at her bright pink bra, which was clearly visible due to the fact nothing was covering it and therefore immediately blushed. She did her best to obtain her dignity and threw Hermione a sarcastic grin.

"Brilliant observation, Professor Granger. Ron's not home, is he?" Ginny demanded.

If Ron overheard their conversation, she was as good as dead.

Hermione shook her head, her smirk replaced by a troubled frown.

"No, fortunately. He got called to the office a few minutes ago."

Ginny let out a deep exhale of relief.

"**Splendid**. Because as you can tell, what I'm about to discuss with you isn't quite fit for dear Ronald's ears."

Hermione's frown deepened.

"Go on."

Ginny sighed.

"Last night, Fred and George told me that they saw Harry getting awfully drunk at The Leaky Cauldron. No one knows, with the exception of you, what's been going on between Harry and me so I had a hunch that his drinking had to do with me. I thought it was because I told him I couldn't marry him. I got your OWL the day before and went round Harry's early the next morning. We got into an argument and well…we kissed and then I left."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh brother, don't tell me it gets worse!" she exclaimed.

Ginny nodded.

"Far worse. Later that day, I was in Hogsmeade with Dean, picking up my veil. I guess Harry saw us because he got upset and started drinking. As you know, Fred and George mentioned they spotted Harry at a pub, so as soon as I could get away, I apparated to Harry's. He was beyond smashed. His eyes had this glazed over look and he kept slurring his words."

She paused.

"As you can guess, we got into an argument again. I asked him if he got drunk because of what I said and it just went downhill from there. Before I knew it, Harry kissed me and I kissed him back. He started asking me if things had been different, would I be with him. And I mean…I couldn't lie, you know?"

Hermione's eyes widened.

"And what did you say?"

Ginny gulped.

"I told him if I weren't marrying Dean, I would be with him."

Hermione shook her head, her hands covering her eyes.

"Oh Ginny, you shouldn't have! You can't get his hopes up like that!"

"I know, I know! I felt awful. But then he asked me to stay overnight with him. I was so tempted to say no but he was so drunk, that I was worried. I wanted to make sure he would be all right. And it was getting really late, so I figured it wasn't a big deal. But then one thing lead to the next and-"

Hermione gasped.

"Ginerva Weasley! Don't you dare tell me you had **sex** with HARRY!" the older witch screeched.

Ginny's blush returned and she quickly shook her head.

"**No!** No! But it probably _would_ have happened, if Harry hadn't insisted we stop. We were only kissing and then things started to heat up. My mind was screaming at me to stop but my heart…my heart wouldn't let me. Luckily, Harry was like, "Ginny, we shouldn't be doing this. I don't want to do anything you'll regret in the morning." I knew he was right, so I agreed. And then pretty soon after that, I fell asleep. I suppose he fell asleep sometime after I did," Ginny solemnly finished.

Hermione appeared as though she'd just received a slew of failing grades on her NEWTS. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and filled with surprise, her hand at her mouth. Ginny felt anxious. She had come to Hermione for advice and it looked like even **she** didn't know what to do or say.

"Hermione…please say something. Anything," Ginny pleaded.

Hermione was absolutely stunned.

"I-…Gin, I really don't have any good advice at the moment. I mean, you do realize your wedding to Dean is in two days!" Hermione reminded, her voice rising an octave.

"Don't you think I know that? This is an awful situation to be in," Ginny moaned.

"Where's Harry now?" Hermione curiously wondered, peering around in attempts to see a glimpse of him.

"He went out for a walk, to clear his head. He left me a note," Ginny flatly replied.

"All right, good. That gives you some time to think. Can I ask you a question? It's very important, so you'll have to give it some deep thought," Hermione began.

Ginny shrugged.

"Go ahead."

"I was watching _'The Mexican' _the other day and it brought up something that I think really fits with your situation."

Ginny frowned.

"The Mexican? What the hell is that?" Ginny wondered in confusion.

What did this have to do with her problem?

"It's a muggle movie. Anyway, back to my question. My question is, when two people truly love each other, but can never seem to get it together, when is enough, enough?" Hermione questioned.

Ginny thought about this for a moment and discovered she really had no answer. When was enough, enough? Harry and herself didn't seem to be "getting it together" so did that mean she should have just given up once and for all? But what if she didn't want to give up…

"I don't know," Ginny confessed.

Hermione threw out one of her infamous "know-it-all" smiles.

"The answer is never. You see, Ginny, when you fall in love with someone, you can't just get them out of your mind or heart as quickly as you would like. I know I'm probably supposed to say something along the lines of, 'You should forget about Harry, come clean to Dean and marry him' while indicating how foolish your actions were, but I'm not going to preach. True, you shouldn't have kissed Harry that first time. And point being, you shouldn't even have considered staying overnight. But that's not the point, not in the grand scheme of everything," Hermione wisely continued.

Ginny was silent, marveling at the philosophy of her friend and sister-in-law.

"I'm smart, Ginny, but book smart only gets you so far. You know how much Ron and I used to argue; still do in fact. But despite the fact he sometimes could say some **really** hurtful things, it never really crossed my mind to _forget_ about what I felt for him."

"You can fall in love a lot, but true love; truly, madly, deeply, can't live without each other love only happens once in a lifetime. And once it hits you, it hits you **hard** and so **quick** you don't even know what it is until it's too late. And it never goes away. First loves never really die because you've given apart of yourself away, that you can't get back. A person can fall in love a million times with a million different people, but there's something so pure and innocent about falling in love for the first time, that it never leaves your system."

Ginny was bewildered with silence. She had never known Hermione to be so…. Well, insightful. She had known she was extremely smart but there was a difference between book smart and "life" smart.

"Are you saying I should be with Harry instead of Dean?" Ginny quietly speculated.

Hermione shrugged, a soft smile present on her face.

"I'm **not** saying anything like that. All I'm trying to say is to follow your heart. True, it isn't always the most practical advice but let's say you end up marrying Dean and you still have feelings for Harry. It's a lose-lose situation. You end up marrying Dean just for the sake of avoiding confrontation. In the mean time, Dean's been deceived because you haven't given him your entire heart and Harry is hurting because he still loves you," Hermione rationally pointed out.

"But…what if I truly and **only** love Dean?" Ginny debated, though she knew she was lying to herself.

Hermione blinked in surprise, as though it weren't a possible answer. She shrugged, her smile sliding off her face.

"Then what's the problem, huh? Marry the guy, right? Of course, Harry will be upset but if you truly love Dean, then you can't change how you feel. Besides, if Harry loves you as much as he claims, then he would let you go," Hermione answered, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Ginny sighed. Everything would have been all right, if this were the case. But after the events of last night and before, she knew easy wouldn't be the way out. Every time she was with Harry, she forgot about Dean. Of course, guilt would cross her mind every now and then but in all honesty, the way Harry made her feel stirred something so deep inside of her that she had thought it was lost the day he had disappeared.

Ginny knew people weren't born perfect and she was an example of this. If she was perfect, she would be unaffected by Harry's return. Of course, she would have been beyond glad of his return but she wouldn't have felt anything for him romantically. It would have been dead and buried, just the way she had claimed.

But besides being a witch, she was human and all humans had flaws.

Ginny looked down at bedroom floor, then back at Hermione.

"I guess Dean will be pretty upset," she whispered.

"Why?" Hermione questioned in astonishment.

"Because he's not going to like it when I tell him that the wedding is canceled."


	12. and if you were with me tonight

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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A/N: No! This isn't done! Haha. Hang in there guys, we've still got quite a bit to go before the saga ends…

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Harry was quite surprised to have run into his old crush, Cho Chang. She was just as he remembered her, though evidently aged and matured with time. She was wearing a pair of low-slung jeans, a lilac halter-top and a pair of Vans sneakers. Her hair flowedpast her shoulders and in long layers. He had to admit that she looked pretty good.

"Harry! I thought that was you. I was sitting in Starbucks and I swore I saw you walk by," Cho eagerly greeted, looking him up and down.

Harry forced a smile. He didn't mind having a quick chat with Cho but he would rather spend his time mulling over his pressing situation at hand. She appeared to be excited to see him, though Harry couldn't fathom why. Ever since his disastrous attempt to court her in fifth year, Harry and Cho had remained casual acquaintances.

In sixth year, Harry had the feeling Cho still liked him but Harry didn't act on it. He would wave and occasionally stop to catch up on things with her, if he passed her in the halls or after a Qudditch match but nothing more. The summer in between sixth and seventh year was when Harry fell for Ginny and in consequence, during seventh year he paid very little attention to Cho Chang.

"Yeah, it was me," he dully replied.

He didn't mean to sound uninterested, but he really didn't feel like relishing in old memories with Cho. But then again….what was the rush? Ginny was still asleep. It wasn't like he had to get home the minute she woke up.

"How have you been?"

Surely, from the tone of her voice, she had been keeping up with the reports from the _Daily Prophet_ and rumors around town.

He shrugged.

"All right, I guess. Just happy to be home," he sincerely admitted, with a weak smile.

She smiled back at him, suddenly growing apprehensive.

"Listen, I know this is short notice but do you want to join me for a cup of coffee? You know, catch up on some things," she nervously offered.

Harry sighed. Maybe a short break from thinking over the predicament with Ginny would clear his mind a bit.

He nodded and Cho Chang's nervous smile transformed into a beaming grin.

"Lead the way."

Harry was quite surprised as to what had been going on with Cho in the year of his absence. After Hogwarts, Harry had known she wanted to pursue professional Qudditch but was finding it hard to break into that world. In the end, she had gotten engaged to Roger Davies and the pair had opened up their very own Qudditch Sporting Goods Store in Hogsmeade, which was going quite well.

Harry didn't talk too much; he mostly listened to what Cho had to say. He wasn't in the mood to share his personal thoughts and private life to his ex-crush, so he let her run the conversation.

Harry was drinking his third cup of black coffee, when he noticed that Cho had finally ceased talking. This was strange and he wondered if his aloof attitude had rubbed her the wrong way. Harry looked up from the steaming beverage and rose an eyebrow, trying to be nonchalant.

"Something wrong?"

Cho put down her Mochachino and shrugged. Her eyes were glued to his, however and she seemed lost on a deep train of thought that wouldn't so easily be stopped.

"No, nothing. It's just…"

She trailed off. Harry inwardly groaned. He knew what that little teasing prompt meant. Girls always used it when something was bugging them beyond belief but they didn't feel like looking like an idiot and confessing.

Thus,they made **YOU** wonder what it was and persist the issue further, so they could finally go on some emotional journey without actually being responsible for instigating it.

"It's just what?" he demanded, trying to force his voice to be as cool as he was pretending.

She frowned, her eyes swooping down to her finger, which was carefully tracing the rim of the paper cup. Come to think of it, she **had** seemed quite distant after awhile. Well, not really distant but holding something on the tip of her tongue that she was too afraid to let go.

Harry wasn't too good at reading women's minds but from the way Cho had greeted him, he figured it obviously had to do with him. Harry was silent, letting her gather her courage to push forward with the matter. She focused her attention back at him, taking another sip of the beverage before speaking once more.

"I don't know. This may be the wrong time to say anything, but the day I found out you had vanished, I remembered all these things I didn't have the chance to tell you," she softly replied.

Harry's lips pressed into a tight, thin line. Here we go again. Yet another person wanting to confess some kind of sob story to them, just because of his disappearance. He felt a little annoyed by some people suddenly willing to give all this sudden attention to him, because he felt that if these sentiments been genuine, a little thing like a disappearance **shouldn't** have brought them up.

Ok, so maybe a disappearance from the wizarding world was quite a **BIG** thing but in all retrospect, it bothered him if it was from the wrong person. Harry understood that it was quite traumatizing to have someone you knew just up and vanish, but he also felt that this was just an awkward time to say it. Whatever Cho had to say, she had seven years at Hogwarts to say and even months before he'd gone off to war. Why had she waited so long?

Harry could remember his fifth year, when they'd tried some sort of weird variation of a relationship. It had crashed and burned miserably. He supposed that it had taken him quite awhile to get over her, seeing as how he had been utterly infatuated with her throughout fourth year as well as fifth. But he knew that he had never loved her, the way he was in love with Ginny.

"What's that?" he wondered.

He tried to sound bored, so maybe Cho would get the hint that he didn't really have time to take a stroll down memory lane but she didn't get the message.

"I never got over you," she whispered.

Harry heard her, even though her voice was just barely audible but couldn't believe it. Just when he was sorting out this mess with Ginny, Cho decided to waltz along and add to the garbage? Maybe he wasn't really awake. Maybe another black coffee would do.

"What did you say?" he demanded, leaning over the table so he could hear better.

Cho cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing with humiliation though she barreled on.

"I said, I never really got over you."

Harry's eyes widened, this time hearing the confession loud and clear.

"Cho, as much as I…appreciate that, this really isn't the right time."

In all his years of living, Harry Potter could easily pick up lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts and in his first year, was flying a broom like a professional even though he'd never had a real lesson. He could defeat the Darkest Wizard of his time but when it came to relationships and love and all that jazz, he was as **clueless** as Ron was.

Well, maybe not as bad as Ron but he certainly wasn't an expert in the field. He remembered when he'd first kissed Cho. She'd been…crying and he didn't know why. Most likely about Cedric or something. He'd told the tale to Ron and Hermione. Hermione, being observant as ever, had declared, "Harry you're as bad as Ron."

It appeared that even to this day, the statement rung true. What was a guy to do when you were sitting at breakfast with your ex-crush and she started babbling about how she missed you? It was totally bonkers.

"I know this isn't very good timing, but I just had to let you know. I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. But it was either now or never. This had been weighing on my mind for quite some time," she sincerely admitted.

Harry had wished it had been never, instead of now.

"Cho, listen. You're a great girl, you really are. But I'm sort of involved with someone else."

Harry didn't want to be too mean but she just wasn't taking the hint.

Cho recoiled back in her chair a bit, her cheeks blazing to the color of a forest fire. She started to toy with the paper that had been covering her straw, crumpling it up into a little ball then unfolding it to repeat the process.

"Who?" she wondered, furrowing her brow.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy.

"I can't really say. It's sort of new and I don't want to spoil it by telling a lot of people, if you know what I mean."

Cho nodded, biting her lip and gazing out the window.

"Oh, I see. Sorry if I sounded too forward," she apologized.

Harry could tell that she was hurt and despite the fact he **knew** he had done nothing wrong, he felt like somewhat of a jerk. Wasn't he just in the same position, dealing with the whole unrequited love dilemma?

"It's all right. You wouldn't have known," Harry defended.

"Yeah," she simply uttered.

She was silent once more, peering down into the depths of her coffee, as though it held the answers to life's most difficult problems. He stared at her, her long, inky black hair gracefully falling over her face and cheeks and mused that maybe she was only looking for closure.

After his fourth year, Cho was still beating herself up about Cedric. And then later on, when Cho started developing feelings for Harry, she felt even worse because she felt as though she were betraying Cedric or something. It was all very complicated and Harry never really understood it. Maybe by seeing him, she was putting an end to some of her loose threads, so to speak.

"Well, I'd better go before I make an even bigger fool out of myself," Cho jokingly noted with a sad laugh.

Harry lightly laughed as well, trying to get rid of some of the developed tension.

She arose from her chair, slinging her purse over her shoulder and grabbing her cup of coffee as well. Harry rose as well, not knowing whether he should shake her hand or give her a quick hug.

"It was nice to see you," Harry replied, offering her a small smile.

"It was good to see you as well, Harry," Cho genuinely admitted.

They stared at each other for a moment, the Boy Who Lived offering her a sympathetic yet warm half-smile, the Girl Who Had Once _(and Maybe Always)_ Love Him, gazing back at him with admiration and respect, hoping he'd be happy with whoever he was with.

Cho leaned in and softly pressed her lips against Harry's, in what may have been the quickest but most tender kiss he'd ever experienced. And with that kiss, Harry knew that Cho had truly let him go.

She stepped back and waltzed towards the door, chin held high, though her eyes were watering.

"I hope we see each other again, sometime."

Harry nodded, still deciding if he agreed with her or not.

"Take care," he earnestly replied.

With that, Cho walked out of Starbucks and down the street, getting swallowed by the sea of London natives and tourists. Harry sighed and sat back down at the table he'd been at, suddenly remembering that his dilemma with Ginny still was waiting for him back at his flat. What was he going to say to her? What if she regretted everything that happened last night and told him she never wanted to see him again?

He rubbed his temples in a circular motion, his shoulders slumping forward. He sucked down the rest of his coffee and shuffled back in line, to order another. Today just didn't seem like it was his day.

Standing outside Starbucks, disguised by the thick crowd, stood a shocked Ron Weasley. Now, Ron usually stuck by Harry even if he was totally wrong, but what he'd just seen didn't ride to well in his book. Why had Harry been kissing Cho, when he supposedly wanted to marry his baby sister?

What kind of foul play was that? Ron closed his gaping jaw, then walked down the street, past Starbucks. He was afraid if he stayed there too long, Harry would look up and spot him.

Ron was beyond confused. Just a few days ago, Harry had been raving about his little sister like she was the best thing since sliced bread. Ron couldn't comprehend why Harry was so set on Ginny, but he figured if anyone was going to marry her, it bloody well be his best mate.

So then why had he just seen Cho and Harry engaged in a lip-lock? He was still on duty at work, but on a fifteen minute break. But Ron knew that this would only take a quick moment and located his wand, sticking out of the inside pocket of his steel gray robes.

With a loud _"POP"_ Ron apparated back to his flat, praying that Hermione would be home.


	13. i'd sing to you just one more time

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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A/N: As usual, you guys are nothing short of wonderful. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

When Harry arrived home, he was surprised to see Ginny, fully dressed and eating a bagel in his kitchen, while patiently reading an old issue of _The Daily Prophet_, as though she didn't have a care in the world. He was a little confused at her behavior but decided not to question it.

He stood before her, the kitchen counter separating them. For some reason, his encounter with Cho had been exhausting. Not literally physically of course, but mentally. She'd brought up a past that he was ready to obliterate. But this entire situation with Ginny was completely screwing with his head. He'd thought things through, but that didn't account for anything if Ginny was still undecided.

Harry had always known the answer. He'd always been in love with Ginny and the fact that she was getting married, still didn't change that. Call it stupid, call it irrational, but he wasn't about to change his feelings from something more to just friendly in a matter of 24 hours.

"Ginny?" he curiously questioned.

She instantly put the paper down and met his gaze, her expression unreadable.

"Harry."

He threw her the ghost of a smile, and then pulled up a chair next to her. He hadn't planned on what he was going to say to her. He was starting to think that maybe he should have thought of something worthwhile to say, instead of staring at her like the eighth world wonder.

"You got my note," he casually observed.

The note was back on the fridge, where he last left it.

She nodded, taking a quick glance back at the piece of paper.

"I read it. And I've done some thinking while you were gone," she vaguely informed.

He rose an eyebrow.

"You did?"

He didn't know what else to say. He had lost total control of the situation, ever since he'd decided to let his problems wash away with a sip from a bottle. He noticed that she seemed rather serene, which was odd because of the pressing matter at hand.

Ginny offered him another smile, her eyes sweeping down to the mica counter top, a lock of her falling into her eyes like a thick flame. There was something hiding behind the glimmer in her eyes and he leaned forward, wondering what the secret was.

"Yeah," she simply stated.

He pretended to be as cool and collected as she was but inwardly, he was walking on eggshells. He couldn't figure out why she displayed such a calm attitude when he was exactly the opposite. Silence hung in the air like a thick fog and Harry gulped. She knew she had total control of the situation.

"And what's the verdict?"

She leaned forward, pushing her hair behind her ears, the smile she threw him small but pure.

"It took a little insight from a friend but I've realized something. I don't know why I couldn't see it before. I love you. I've never stopped loving you," she whispered.

Her voice was so gentle that Harry thought he had been imagining it. His eyes widened, brilliant eyes of jade locking with compassionate brown, both of them daring the other to gaze away and break the spell.

They both felt it, like an electrical charge; the unexplainable feeling that though they'd grown older, the spark between them hadn't faltered or weakened. It was the unexplainable feeling that their lives were about to turn in a completely different direction due to a simple conversation in Harry's kitchen.

"Ginny…" he hesitantly trailed off.

But she quickly interrupted him.

"Harry, last night we said some things and did some things that I didn't expect at all. But I wouldn't take any of it back," she firmly finished.

His heart felt lighter and he actually let out a low chuckle. His uneasy frown transformed into a grin and he walked around the counter top and to Ginny, stopping merely a few centimeters in front of her. He could feel the pace of her breathing quicken and she timidly placed her hand on his forearm, gazing up at him, her strong confidence turning into slight anxiety.

And he couldn't help himself any longer. He pressed his lips against hers, the only conclusion he'd ever needed. He was glad to have Ginny confess her feelings for him but the majority of the time; her kisses spoke louder than her words.

Harry swore he heard fireworks go off somewhere in the back of his mind and Ginny was floating on a cloud straight to heaven. Ginny blissfully sighed into his mouth. For some strange reason, this made sense, this all made sense. They belonged together…her heart was furiously pounding and she was sure that he could feel it against his chest.

It all made sense…she was still in love with Harry. She loved him, she loves him…she loves him…But there was Dean to think about…but she was in love with Harry, not Dean…it had always been Harry, it had always been him. She could remember that night of his graduation, the night she'd spent lying in his arms, ever so careful in case that she would awake and it would all have been just a silly dream.

And she could remember the summer nights out on his broom, the wind feverishly licking her face and the way he'd quickly peer back at her with a goofy grin and she would giggle and press her cheek into the back of his neck, her body up against his and believe that they'd fly past the stars and straight until morning.

It had always been him in her dreams…always holding her heart.

"Harry," she airily whispered, her eyes closed tightly.

His lips delicately traveled down the length of her neck and back to her mouth, silently pouring out every emotion he'd bottled inside for so long. They stumbled backwards through the open bedroom door, lip to lip, hands on hips. They tumbled onto the bed, when Harry recoiled a bit, intensely peering down at her.

"Gin, what about your wedding? And Dean?" he choked out.

It was kind of an odd time to bring it up, but it had been pressing at Harry's mind. He wasn't up to playing anymore games or being in the dark about any secrets.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, gazing upward. He shivered.

"I'll take care of it."

He nodded and their lips met once more, both letting themselves get lost in the moment and swept away in the passion.

* * *

When Ron Weasley arrived home, he found Hermione sitting in the kitchen, reading Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. The incident at Starbucks had replaying in his mind over and over again, like a broken record. And the more he envisioned it, the angrier he got.

It was almost too awful to be true, that **HIS** best friend of more than seven years had gone and back stabbed **HIS **only and little sister, all for some schoolboy crush. It was preposterous, it was outrageous, and it was totally and completely uncalled for. Therefore, Hermione would know perfectly well how to handle an ordeal like this.

"Hermione! Hermione!" he frantically called, rushing over to with the agility a speeding bullet.

Ron slammed both his hands down on the table, looking absolutely furious. Hermione stifled a giggle, curious as to why her husband appeared as though he were about to knock someone's teeth out. Ever since her talk with Ginny, she'd been feeling rather relaxed, as compared to the last few days, though sympathetic towards Dean.

"Ron, aren't you supposed to be at work?" she demanded, studying his ruffled expression.

Ron nodded, peering deeply into her eyes, his face growing even redder. His hair was an utter mess, as though he'd been running his hand through it one too many times.

"Yes, but I'm on break. The thing is, you won't believe what I just saw!" he fumed.

Hermione arched an eyebrow and put her book down on the table.

"What?"

Ron's nostrils flared and he clenched his hands into tight fists. He simply oozed pure rage.

"I just saw Harry snogging Cho Chang in Starbucks! Snogging her in broad daylight, like there was no tomorrow!" he roared, standing up to his full height.

Hermione gaped, stunned by the news. It couldn't be true, could it? Why would Harry kiss Cho when he was head over heels in love with Ginny? It just didn't make any sense at all. Maybe Ron was overreacting.

It was no secret that his temper was infamous for making him to wrongly construe events and blow them out of proportion. But this was a serious matter. Why would Ron make something up like that? It was safe to say that Hermione was entirely confused.

"Ron, are you sure?" she hesitantly questioned.

Hermione, being the more sensible one, wanted to believe Ron but needed further evidence and proof.

Her husband clenched down on his jaw, flashing a strong scowl in her direction. Hermione recoiled a bit in her chair. She'd never seen Ron so infuriated, especially at Harry.

"What am I, blind or something? Look, I know what I saw and I definitely saw my best mate kissing Cho Chang!" he declared.

She bit her lip. It wouldn't hurt to tell Ginny…would it? Hermione stood up, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look, dear, you're absolutely positive that you saw Harry and Cho kiss?" she urged, once more.

It was too strange to be true.

Ron let out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands in defeat.

"YES! You think I would joke about something like this?" he fiercely asked.

Hermione let out an uneasy sigh, letting her arms flop to her sides. She rubbed her temples, as though having a splitting headache.

"All right. Listen, you'd better get back to work. I have…some errands to do," she wearily insisted.

"Do you think we should tell Ginny?" Ron tensely wondered, his tone less abrasive.

Hermione waved him away, knowing that if Ron said anything more to anyone, it would just turn everything upside down. No, it would be best if she confronted Ginny herself. That way, if Harry had returned home, she could question him about it as well, in a calm and civilized manner that would be far more logical than Ron's idea of his fist connecting with Harry's face.

"I'll take care of it."

"Ok," Ron replied, his anger fading away a bit.

With a quick kiss goodbye, he apparated and went back to the office. As soon as he'd vanished, Hermione let out a sigh and observed the neat apartment, wondering how things could go from good to worse in a matter of minutes.

Regretting the fact that she'd just stepped from one problem and into another, she strolled into the bedroom, retrieved her wand and put it in her back pocket. With a shake of her head and a sigh, she apparated to Harry's flat, hoping that there was a reasonable explanation for everything.

There just had to be…Right?


	14. a song for a heart so big

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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-A/N: **WARNING!** SUGGESTIVE CONTEXT AHEAD. Haha. Don't say I didn't warn you….However, it's not graphic or anything, so it safely falls within the realms of the current rating. Sorry this took awhile to update!

* * *

"To love someone deeply gives you strength. Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage. "  
**Lao Tzu**

* * *

Harry flopped onto his back; his hands vanishing in the thickness of the profuse rivers and rivers of crimson locks, experiencing for the first time in his life a total sense of serenity and belonging. 

She was there and this was real; so real and Harry couldn't possibly conjure any eloquent or witty or charming words to whisper in her ear because everything was happening so fast. Another kiss to her neck and she shivered. She was lost in his zealous jade eyes that were wide as saucers, burning brightly than any star, focused only on her. She was his, all his.

Frantic and frenzied, yet affectionate and slow, passive and placid. Collarbones and cream colored skin, freckles and desire; lust had evolved into solid love. She needed him; oh how much she needed him.

Their shoes and shirts and pants and clothing had been discarded and they were gracefully tangled up in the massive miles of freshly washed covers, falling and melting and collapsing together. And it was poetry in motion and Harry would never have wanted to share this with anyone else. He was hers all hers.

It was summer again and nothing could tear them apart. She was nothing more than a young woman in love, instead of a ball of heartbreak lying on the bedroom floor and he was nothing more than Harry Potter, nearly eighteen and drunk in love. It was as though his mind, body and soul were all aligned and in tune with one another, the symphony of a hundred violins singing sweetly into the darkness of a pitch black sky.

_Not a care in the world._

It was dancing in an aggressive thunderstorm, letting the corpulent droplets wash over you like icy redemption. They were sailing away…Sail away with me, honey…sail away.

_Listen to her heartbeat._

Why couldn't reality be more surreal?

Anxious smiles mixed with eyes wide shut.

Needing and wanting and burning and are you ok and yes I'm fine and hair as dark as raven's feathers mixing with waves as red as the sun before it sloppily kisses the horizon goodnight and lose yourself in his eyes because pretty soon it'll be just a memory…

It was perfect when it was all over, Harry gathered Ginny in his arms, placed a kiss on top of her head, her hair wild and flowing, and listened to the sound of her heart beat in sync with his own.

He felt like he should speak, say something, say anything but he was speechless and breathless.

Ginny shakily inhaled. Adjusting herself in his arms, she gazed up at him and coyly smiled.

"Wow. I…I don't know what to say. And that's not a bad thing. Does that sound horribly cheesy?" she shyly demanded.

Harry shook his head, his eyes twinkling.

"Believe it or not, I was thinking the same thing," he slyly admitted.

And they gazed into one another's eyes for another moment, lips curving into a teasing smirk and laughed.

* * *

A few minutes later, Harry and Ginny were decked out in bathrobes, shuffling about the kitchen and recalling incidents of happier times. It was still fairly early in the morning, around 11 AM. Ginny was practically swimming in a navy blue, terrycloth bathrobe that Harry rarely wore anymore. Harry was wandering about in a forest green robe, which obviously fit him better than Ginny's tent. 

It came well past her knees and she habitually tripped on its ratty ends. Her hair was still flying all over the place like a vicious tornado, mirroring Harry's own ravished mane. But a newfound sense of serenity had passed over them and Ginny, for the first time in awhile, actually felt like she was a twenty-something witch instead of middle-aged and fondly reflecting back on her days of youth like a favored Christmas gift.

"Oy, Gin, do you need a life vest or something? I swear, you're going to drown in that robe," Harry teased as he rummaged through the pantry.

His voice projected a little muffled, as he shoved aside a nearly empty box of cereal.

Ginny stuck out her tongue and lazily rocked back and forth in her stool, located behind the counter. She intently observed Harry, as he carelessly tore apart his refrigerator and cupboards, on a mission to find something edible.

"Oh sod off, you wanker. May I remind you, Mr. Potter, that this is your robe and if you didn't have such bloody long limbs, maybe the thing would properly fit," she shot back.

With an unopened box of strawberry pop-tarts in hand, Harry valiantly whipped around and strolled towards the toaster. He plugged the cord into the outlet and ripped open the box, grinning at Ginny.

"I must admit love; you look pretty irresistible in my clothes. I think you should wear them more often," he brazenly suggested.

Ginny laughed as Harry attempted to seductively waggle his eyebrows. She plopped her elbow on the clean countertop, resting her chin into the palm of her hand. She narrowed her eyes in pensive concentration, as Harry took off the shiny packaging of the breakfast food and popped them into the slots of the toaster.

"Have you ever noticed, that after people have sex or something they're hungry?"

Harry instantly snapped his attention toward Ginny, his face drawn into total and utter shock.

"Ginny Weasley! I don't think I'd ever hear you, of all people, say something like that."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"What? _Sex?_ Oh, bugger Harry, it's just a word," she smugly teased.

Harry shook his head, chuckling in surprise. The toaster spat out the pop-tarts and Harry located two plates, and then placed the food onto them. Harry handed Ginny a plate and kept the other for himself.

"I hope that what happened wasn't _just_ sex, to you," he mumbled as he pulled up a stool across from her.

He faintly blushed and Ginny affectionately smiled at his embarrassment, and then sighed.

She reached for Harry's hand.

"Oh, Harry. Of course I don't think of it as just sex. It was **more** than that, so much more than that. I don't mean to get sappy on you, but it was special to me," she sincerely whispered.

Harry inwardly let out a sigh of relief and met Ginny's stern expression, brushing aside a few pieces of hair that were obnoxiously dangling in front of his eyes.

"All right."

Ginny tossed him a fake scowl, throwing her hands up.

"I bare my heart and soul to you and all you can say is _all right?_" she mock-screeched.

Harry heartily chuckled and leaned over the counter, affectionately kissing her forehead.

"You know I love you."

They exchanged a smile and began to devour their pop-tarts, when a loud _'POP'_ interrupted the entire ordeal.

To Harry and Ginny's surprise, it was Hermione. Harry stifled back a snort at the mangled appearance of his best friend. She was huffing and panting, as though she'd just completed a race around the globe.

Her eyes were wide and frantic, like she'd gulped down an entire pot of black coffee. She couldn't seem to cease fiddling with her hands and as she observed the amused faces of Harry and Ginny, she was sent into an even deeper state of panic.

"Oh, um…Listen, I just want a straightforward answer, from you Harry. I'm sorry to barge over her, unannounced and all, but it couldn't wait. I'm not sure the source was all _that_ reliable, seeing as how it was er-ahem…Ron…but he seems to be convincedthat Harry was kissing Cho Chang in Starbucks, earlier today," Hermione cautiously explained.

She retained her distance, holding her hands up in protection, some kind of inner fear that Harry or Ginny would react with raging violence.

The air was deathly silent, as Ginny's eyes bore into Harry's face. Harry turned scarlet but instantly transformed his expression into neutrality. Ginny upheld a poker face, her hands folded on the countertop, tensely waiting for an answer. Hermione's gaze darted back and forth between Ginny and Harry, unsure if the approach she had taken was flawed.

"When'd he say this?" Harry demanded, biting down on his jaw.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, slightly uncomfortable that she had rashly taken the position of the messenger.

"This morning. He came rushing into the apartment, all in a tizzy, ranting and raving that you had been snogging Cho. I have to confess that a very small part of me believed him. But I was hesitant and that's why I made the choice to pop on over and ask you about it. I didn't want to blow this out of proportion."

Harry's scarlet hue disappeared and drained into one of weary defeat.

"Well, I appreciate that you took the initiative to come over and straighten things out. The truth is, yes, Cho and I kissed at Starbucks. But it trust me, it meant nothing at all and it was so quick that I don't think it even qualifies as a kiss, per say. I was taking a walk this morning, before you woke up Gin, and of all places, Cho happened to meet up with me on my way to Starbucks. We had coffee and talked. That's it. Nothing else happened," Harry revealed, more so to Ginny than Hermione.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, but Ginny remained blank-faced.

"Gin, you do believe me, don't you?" Harry anxiously questioned, fully turning to Ginny.

Hermione's expression of happy relief instantly turned into worry.

She was silent for a moment, and then her face broke into a genuine yet miniature smile.

"Of course, love. I-…I don't know, I guess the mention of Cho just…frazzled me a bit. I know how much you used to fancy her."

Harry shook his head, slid off his stool and wrapped her in his arms.

"Ginny, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me," he assured in her ear.

Hermione nervously coughed, suddenly blushing due to her realization of her best friend and sister-in-law's current apparel. Ginny didn't appear the least bit fazed but Harry sheepishly shrugged.

"Um….now that everything's all clear, I guess I'll be going. I'll talk to you two, later," she vowed.

Harry gave a little wave, too embarrassed to say anything and Ginny laughed under her breath.

"Bye, Mione."

With that, Hermione apparated out of the flat.

Ginny looked up at Harry, her childish mood vanquished by the sudden question floating around in her head.

"What now? I've got an entire wedding to somehow cancel without everyone hating me. How are we going to go about this?"

Harry was lost in deep thought for awhile.

After a moment had passed, he kissed Ginny on the top of her head, his eyes apprehensively gazing into the distance.

"First things first. We tell Dean."


	15. God wouldn't let it live

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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His face exhibited ultimate bliss at the sight of the youngest Weasley. However, when he opened the door wider and caught the anxious expression of Harry Potter, Dean Thomas knew that everything stable in his life was about to collapse. It wasn't that he hated or even disliked Harry; Dean had known Harry throughout his adolescence and was on quite pleasant terms with him during the course of their Hogwarts careers. 

However, the brewing romance between Harry and Ginny had been genuinely broadcasted around the school halls; a noticeable relationship that was usually tossed into the standard laundry of gossip. Dean had known that Ginny was hopelessly in love with Harry; he'd been quite relieved and surprised that she'd accepted his proposal.

He'd known that falling for Ginny was a big risk in itself; he was sure that a piece of Ginny would always belong to Harry. Now, as he silently ushered the pair deeper into his flat, he wondered if that part of Ginny was not in fact a piece, but her entire spirit and soul.

The trio wandered into the living room. Dean sat on the couch; Ginny erratically situated herself across from him, leaning on the edge of her chair. Harry stood off to the side, his eyes smoldering with determination, occasionally straying to off-handedly study his surroundings.

Dean started at the both of them, words and explanations forming and rising to the surface; composed of sentences and syllables that he dared not articulate. He knew what was about to happen and yet he prayed that his assumptions were irrational and totally false.

"Judging from the looks on your faces, this isn't just a random visit," he wryly observed.

Harry tossed out a lopsided smile, then immediately retracted the gesture, as though he had just laughed at a funeral. Ginny folded her hands in her lap and gazed at Dean with such resolute fortitude, that he knew the end had already begun.

"Look, I know the wedding is only a few days away, but if I don't come clean now, I would be lying to you. And that has never been and never will be my intentions."

Dean clamped down on his jaw, unable to move or speak. Entangled by his doubts and his cynical affirmations, he studied the way Harry was looking past him, rather than at him, and the way that Ginny couldn't stop fiddling with her fingers. Harry locked eyes with Ginny and with a small nod, she continued.

"This is so unfair to you, but this wasn't planned. Dean, as much as I care about you…I love Harry."

The air suddenly turned stale. Though he had been expecting the worst, Dean bounced on the balls of his toes, jumping up from his sitting position as though he'd been scalded with a hot iron. Ginny bit her lip and Harry took a step forward, unsure of what Dean would do.

He exclaimed his initial reaction, "What?"

Harry intervened before Ginny could elaborate; his body perpendicular and at alert, though his tone was slightly weary, as though he had rehearsed and recited his response many times in the past. It was not the mark of a man seeking revenge or soaking in the fruits of his well-formed betrayal. It was so painfully obvious; obvious that Harry Potter would always be in love with Ginny Weasley.

"She thought I had died, Dean. But I survived and I'm all right now; I've come back to her, just like I always said I would. If there's one thing I've learned from war and death, is that no one is safe from it. I'm in love with her. I wanted her to be happy, even if that meant marrying you. But I lost her once…and I just can't lose her again."

Dean blinked, trying to control all the emotions that had been blended together by his shock. The speech was so different from the Harry Potter that he had remembered at Hogwarts, yet at the same time, right on target.

It was well-known that Harry was extremely loyal to his friends and cherished them like kin. It made perfect sense that despite his collected manner, he was fiercely justifying his attachment towards Ginny.

"But…you hadn't been heard from in two years. Everyone thought that you had died!" he exclaimed.

Ginny nodded, standing beside Harry. Harry gazed down at her, examining the flaming head of red hair; a color that suddenly reminded him of Lily, his mother. He'd only seen her picture in a few odd photographs or so and had only imagined her features from countless stories from Remus and Sirius.

They both had said that his mother had initially hated his father on first sight. However, during seventh year, something happened and the sparks that had once erupted from hostility and malevolence, began to pull them closer. And Harry reflected that he must have known what his father had felt; loving someone so deeply and desperately that you could never let them go.

It was such a simple action, yet richly intertwined with symbolism. He knew that they were in this together; a comforting piece of evidence that quelled his stirring nerves.

"I thought I was dead, myself. I was in France for awhile, until I managed to find a way home. And in all the time I was away, Ginny was the thing that kept me going. I just had to see her again, to know that she was all right," Harry explained.

Dean's eyes flashed to Ginny, who stood her ground. Controlling his anger, his voice decreased to a dull and strained roar.

"Gin…you told me you loved me. I didn't want to rush into anything, but I been so sure that you had moved on. It's two days before the wedding…everything's been finalized and now you want to call it off?"

Ginny nodded.

"It all boils down to love, doesn't it? You wanted to marry me because you were in love with me. But I can't let you marry me, Dean; not when the vows would be a lie."

Dean allowed melancholy to emerge. This entire time….she had been in love with Harry. Every kiss, every whispered reassurance; it had all been a big, fat lie. He wanted to hate her with every fiber of his being. His love had been a weakness, an exposé of his appalling vulnerability, allowing treachery to breed right under his nose.

He felt humiliated and ashamed and bitter. Fairy tales deemed to be true; once again, the Hero got the girl. His gaze passed between the couple, feeling oddly out of place and alienated in his own home.

And so, he did the only thing he could do.

* * *

The countryside radiated beauty in all its unspoiled innocence and glory. As the sun lazily descended, Ginny stared out the window, admiring the view before it would be blanketed by absolute darkness. Everything had happened so fast, that she was still recalling the events in her head.

She could hear the sound of her family's cheers, the almost pleasant look on Dean's face when the wizard minister had confirmed their vows, the way he had whispered her name before he covered her mouth with a kiss. It had been a lovely ceremony with all the right people. She could not have asked for anything more.

She was tremendously grateful that the honeymoon was in the English countryside; they would be able to take some needed time off from the outside world. With a content sigh, Ginny realized that she was enjoying a great serenity that had been lost during the hustle of the previous weeks.

The fading light cast gorgeous shadows along the skyline and the landscape, the bleak shapes clashing and warring with the violent display of vivid flowers and floral arrangements. Considering all the conquered obstacles, it could be possible that she was still dreaming.

Suddenly, a strong yet familiar pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She shivered, her head exploding with sparks at the mere deed of his touch. Ginny leaned into his embrace, laying her hand on top of his curled fingers.

She pressed her cheek into his neck, inhaling and exhaling, shutting her eyes, feeling sixteen again. The world was pounding in her ears, rushing by and speeding like a comet about to smash into the flawless canvas of Earth.

His mouth parted and he whispered, "And how are you this evening, Mrs. Potter?"

Ginny laughed, her right hand reaching for his neck, running a smooth course along his cheek and the bones underneath his chin. All she felt was love and euphoria; she never wanted to leave.

"Home, Mr. Potter. I feel at home."

He smiled and conquered her mouth once again, her smaller frame swallowed by his sprawling height.

It was true that they had endured the harsh and sneering cruelty of winter. But winter had passed and abdicated its stolen throne, only to give full reign to an unbreakable and invincible summer.

Her head swimming with the past, present and unforeseen future, Ginny was sixteen again, soaring through the chilly night, the wind caressing her freckled face, holding onto the waist of Harry Potter, wishing that she would never have to let go.

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A/N: Awww, so it's over! Sorry that came without warning, but I realized that I didn't want to drag the story out with a plot that was already coming to a close. I want to thank all of you for reading and reviewing this story! I hope you liked it! 


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